Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Her chest swells as she turns to me, the golden glints in her eyes flashing. Lightning in a bottle. I want that. Jesus, I want to hold it in my hands, tame it, and write it on my heart.
She opens her mouth to speak and—
DING! Dr. Cartwright has entered the lecture hall.
It was you that night and I’ve never forgotten it, I write furiously, my hand flying across the page. I show her.
I glance over to see what she’s written. She isn’t trying to hide it.
Fine. It was me. What do you want from me?
What do I want? WHAT DO I WANT? I close my eyes. I want her. So damn bad.
And I can’t stop it.
Cartwright starts his lesson, but I don’t care; I’m wired, my legs jittery and bouncing, and I know I’m probably going to write some shit I’ll regret, but I do it anyway.
I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m sorry I left yesterday.
She looks up at the board again, her eyes wide.
She bends down and writes.
It doesn’t matter. You know what I did when you walked into class? I counted the girls who called out your name when you came in the door. FIVE. Go toy with them.
I sit back and stew. Fine, fine. I bend over my paper and lay it out.
Don’t want them. I think months of celibacy might have been a big fucking clue. Last night meant something and I want to see what it is, but if you don’t want me, just tell me. Tell me right now. Write it out nice and neat in that smart-girl handwriting you have, and I’ll tape it to my mirror so I can see it every day when I get up.
My hands tremble as I show her the words, my chest tight. This is me, putting myself out there, the best I can. I don’t know how to go any further.
She looks at Dr. Cartwright.
I pick up my pen again and think about us in her bed, the way she felt like home…the way I know I was looking at her, everything there in my eyes. Doesn’t she know…
I’m just a guy who doesn’t know how to do this. I want you. I wanted you freshman year. I wanted you last fall. I want you now, Charm. Let’s see what this is.
I feel lightheaded. I’m insane, and I’m saying too much, I’m showing my cards and she’s—
She gathers her book and backpack.
“What are you doing?” I mutter as she stands up.
“Leaving. I have somewhere else to be today.”
Where?
Dr. Cartwright has stopped lecturing, and several people turn to look at us.
She gives me a final look, dips her head, and leaves the room.
“Charm!” I call out, but she’s already shutting the door.
Everyone looks at me, and Dr. Cartwright arches his brow with a what the fuck did you do look on his face.
I sit there stunned for five seconds then jump up and follow her, leaving my stuff behind.
I see her headed down the steps of the building and take off.
“Wait!”
She doesn’t, but I catch up to her. I grab her arm and pull her to a stop. I study her face, taking in the pucker between her brows. “What’s going on? Did I go too far?”
She looks up at me. “Everything isn’t about you, Blaze.”
“I know. Tell me what’s going on.”
“After you left, I had a voice mail for an interview in Nashville for an internship. I need a job, even if it isn’t the one I want. I’m driving up today, and they’re going to take me to dinner tonight. I came to class to…” She bites her lip. “I came to see you. I don’t know why, but there it is. I’m staying the night and driving back early tomorrow. Missing classes, but mine are easy enough.”
“Oh. I’m glad you got an interview.” I think about going with her, but the awards dinner is tonight, and I have papers I still haven’t signed for the Combine. I go for it anyway. “Let me come. I can hang out in the hotel while you go to dinner. We can talk—”
Her face is tight. “No. I need space from…this.”
Space? After everything I just wrote?
I feel winded. “I see.”
“Good.” She turns to walk away, and I grab her elbow.
“Charm, we need to figure us out. I want to,” I say, digging in, getting braver by the minute, even though it’s making me queasy, my stomach jumping.
She takes her glasses off and rubs her eyes. “Can it wait until I get back? I need to go now.”
“Sure,” I say coolly, my pride rearing up.
I chased her out of class and I get “space”.
“When?” I ask.
She looks at me and her voice is toneless, blank. “Whenever. And it’s just talking.”
My hands tap my legs. “Fine. My dorm. Eight o’clock. Three days from now. Is that enough time for you?”