Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
He is so dramatic.
“Who is everyone?”
“None of your business.”
That makes me laugh. “Your family?”
He hesitates. “For starters.”
“Well, you sound like an only child.” Crabby and bratty and impulsive.
“For your information, I am one of four. All boys.”
Shocker.
“That explains so much.”
He scrunches up his nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re one of four boys, and let me guess, you all play sports.”
“How do you know I play sports?”
“My friend Winnie—she’s the one who was watching you through the window—told me who you were because I had no idea.” To punctuate my boredom, I feign a yawn, lest his head get any bigger because we were yapping about him earlier. “It wasn’t me, it was her, and she’s dating someone, so…yeah. Check the ego.”
“The ego?” He laughs. “That’s a good one.”
I can’t argue, can’t tell him I’m shocked his giant, inflated head fit into the cab of his truck, can’t say I could tell he was a pompous windbag by the way he stood in the wind, daring it to try to bend him—because as I open my mouth to refute him, I’m forced to ruin any debate by telling him to make a right-hand turn at the stop sign.
Then again, I’ve only known him all of fifteen minutes.
Then again…any guy who takes fifty bucks from his buddy to break up with his girlfriend is probably an unfeeling asshole with serious daddy issues.
In my professional opinion.
My parents are relationship therapists, remember? A tad butthurt, I give myself permission to diagnose Dallas Colter as a commitment-phobe. In fact, I wouldn’t doubt he played some part in convincing Diego he should be single, he’s better off without a girlfriend, he would have more fun, blah blah blah.
We have a few more streets to pass before I have to give him another direction.
“You didn’t tell me why Diego doesn’t want to see me anymore.”
“Nope. I didn’t.”
I only let us sit in silence for a few seconds. “Well, aren’t you going to tell me why?”
“How should I know why? I’m not the guy’s mother.”
That makes no sense. “Clearly he confided in you if he asked you to break up with me for him.” I shake my head, stunned. “I mean, who does that?”
“I already told you. The guy is a pussy.”
That tells me nothing about his reason. I’m tempted to message him, but honestly, the fact that he hired someone in the first place tells me everything I need to know. Diego could have sent any number of people to do what he sent Dallas Colter to do; the ugly truth is, he doesn’t want to date me anymore.
Even worse?
I hadn’t even decided I wanted to date him! That asshole beat me to the punch.
The nerve!
“So…he broke up with me because he’s a pussy? Nice.” I cross my arms, unable to stop myself from pouting. I’m pissed off, embarrassed, and indignant.
“He did you a favor.”
Actually, he humiliated me.
Humiliated, Ryann? That’s a bit dramatic, even for you—especially for you.
If there’s one thing my mother taught me, it’s that no one can make me feel shitty without my consent.
Not in those exact words, but you get the point.
“Do we both agree that I shouldn’t contact him?”
Dallas glances over at me, a flash of light from an oncoming car creating a slash across his face.
“I wouldn’t. I’d let it go.”
I laugh. “You know how hard that is for me to do, right?” I pick at the sleeve of my puffy coat, needing something to occupy my hands. “Not that I want to beg him to keep dating me, because I don’t. I just like closure. This was so random.”
“Was it?”
I give him a hard side glance. “What’s that supposed to mean?” In that tone?
“All I’m saying is, it doesn’t sound like y’all were hot and heavy. It sounds like y’all were lukewarm at best.”
Y’all…
He’s not wrong.
Not in the least.
Still, it’s aggravating.
I open and close my mouth like a guppy, not sure how to refute the claim that Diego and I were no better than tepid water.
Which sounds so…boring.
Because it was.
The fact that I’m arguing has me baffled when, in reality, I was thinking of breaking up with Diego myself.
So annoying!
“Turn here. I’m the apartment right there. Just pull up to the curb. Don’t bother pulling into the driveway.” I’m the unit on the bottom floor—which I hate—patio doors facing the road. Luckily, I’ve never had any scares being at ground level; no one has ever tried to break in, but that doesn’t mean it’s the safest spot to be in.
I’ve been on the waiting list for a second-story apartment since I signed my lease.
“Which one are you?” Dallas is eyeballing the yard, the street ahead, and the neighborhood in general.
“None of your business.” As if I’d give some random guy a road map to where I live. He’s taken me far enough; he needn’t go any farther.