Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 147021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
“You don’t want to date that kid,” he grumbles.
It annoys me that he calls him a kid when Jameson and I are the same age. “You mean you don’t want me to date him.” I stop when I reach my apartment, then remember the girls are still there, waiting for a report. I can’t invite Hollis in to continue an argument that’s probably going nowhere good.
Hollis crosses his deliciously thick forearms across his equally thick chest. “You’re right. I don’t want you to date him. He’s too fame-smitten, and not smitten enough with you.”
He’s not wrong. Jameson spent the entire meal talking to my dad and not me. He didn’t even try to include me in the conversation much. That was all my dad, and only occasionally. Meanwhile, Hollis sat there, being gorgeous and doing bad things under the damn table with his best friend right beside him and my date across from him. The fucking nerve. “So what’s your plan? Are you going to vet every guy I date until you deem one worthy of my attention?”
“If that’s what it takes to make sure you don’t end up with an asshole, then yes.”
I prop my fist on my hip and lean in, eyes narrowed. My anger is made that much worse when I’m forced to rage-whisper because we’re still in the damn hall outside my apartment. “There’s one sure-fire way to ensure that.”
He gives me a dark look. “You know that can’t happen.”
I throw my hands in the air. My frustration is boundless. “You can’t keep saying that and then pull the shit you did today!”
His expression shifts, and his arms drop to his sides. Shame lurks behind his eyes. “I know.”
“Then why did you do it in the first place?” My heart aches so badly. He’s right here in front of me, but he’s so far out of reach. Sure, I’m lying to my dad and hockey players should be on my date-never list. Hollis just looks so earnest as he regards me. And I’m so angry at him for putting us in a box labeled don’t open when it’s clear he feels some type of way.
“I don’t fucking know, okay?” He runs a rough hand through his hair, messing it up, and kneads the back of his neck. “I saw you with that preppy little shit, and he was touching you, and you looked like this.” He flings a frustrated hand in my direction.
“Look like what?” He better not outfit-shame me. I look good, and my boobs are magical.
“Seriously?” His lip twitches. “You need me to spell it out for you?”
“Apparently.”
His eyes rake over me, hot like molten lava. “You look like every sin I want to commit, Princess. So, yeah, I acted without thinking.”
Of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn’t anywhere on the list. But all it does is fuel my anger-fire. “Is that supposed to make me feel better about you ruining the date you sent me on?” He wants me, I want him. Why can’t it be as simple as that?
“Yeah. No. I don’t know. I’m trying to be honest without blowing up my fucking life.” His nostrils flare. “You gotta stop making me admit this kind of shit. It’s not doing us any good.”
He’s shutting down again, and I know better than to keep pushing when he gets like this, but my half-broken heart won’t allow me to stay silent. He’s the worst man for me to be falling for, but this is where I am. I know we can’t be anything, but that doesn’t change what I want. “You can’t keep sabotaging my dates and saying shit like this, Hollis.”
“We’re at very different points in our lives, Aurora.”
And here comes the rationalizing. “That sounds like another bullshit excuse. What are you so afraid of?” I take a step closer. “I’m right here, telling you I want you.”
“It’s what you think you want right now.” He sighs.
There is nothing more infuriating than having him use the life-experience card like he knows what’s best for me. “And what about you, Hollis? What do you want?”
His eyes move over my face like a caress. “You’re killing me, Aurora.”
“Good, because this is agony, Hollis.” My voice cracks. To want someone so desperately but have them so far out of reach. Why can’t a nice boy like Jameson be enough?
“Please, don’t cry. Please.” His hand lifts, hovering for a second before he caves and his fingers brush my cheek.
I lean into the touch and raise my own hand to skim the back of his. Every part of me hums with desire and longing. It hurts to want him. “Do you feel this the way I do?”
“Yes,” he whispers.
“Then why are you fighting it?”
He leans in, and my heart stutters as his breath breaks against my lips. He changes course and skims my cheek with his mouth on the way to my ear.