Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 145634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
“I told you,” I say as I slam the locker door shut and then face her. The wounded look in her eyes makes my anger wane. My words stay in the back of my throat, suffocating me as she visibly swallows.
“I just want to know,” she tells me softly as her doe eyes gloss over.
I run a hand down my face and let out a sigh as I clench my fists and lean my forearms against the cold metal of the locker. I can almost see my reflection in it. Almost, but I can’t. I can see hers though. The way she looks at me like she’s hurt.
“Is it because I told my friends you’re my boyfriend?” she asks me and then pushes the strap to her bookbag higher up on her shoulder.
If only it was that easy. The thought makes the corner of my lip twitch up into a smile as I turn back to her.
It’s stupid. Holding her hand and putting a label on us. I don’t get it. Anyone who looks at the two of us knows we’re not going to work out. So why put a title on it? Why fuss over the details of something that isn’t going to last?
“It’s not that,” I tell her simply and she looks back at me like she doesn’t believe me. I’m on the verge of telling her. Of confessing. It’d be a relief to just tell someone, but not her. I don’t want her to know.
“So, you’re my boyfriend then?” she asks me, cocking a brow.
Fucking hell. I give in. “Sure,” I tell her with a forced smile and she kicks me in the shin.
“Ow!” I mock yell at her and smile. “Yes, I’m your boyfriend,” I say jokingly.
“Thank you, Nathan,” Hally says sweetly, getting onto her tiptoes to wrap her arms around me. She does it so easily. Like she doesn’t see everyone watching. And if she does, she doesn’t care. I keep my arms down, careful not to hug her back, but then it all changes. So suddenly, I almost don’t realize what she’s done.
She plants a soft kiss on my neck. It’s wet, just a little, but it’s the sound and the way that her hair brushes against my chin that make me wrap my arms around her waist. She does it again on my jawline. A small kiss and I find myself tilting my chin down and hoping for one on the lips, but she doesn’t give it to me.
Instead, she rests flat on her feet and then smiles as her cheeks turn bright red. Before I can even utter a word, she grabs my hand and says, “Good. I can tell you need me to be your girlfriend.” With a nod, she starts walking and I follow behind her.
That’s the power she holds over me, but she wasn’t prepared for the harsh reality of what being my girlfriend meant.
Neither of us were.
CHAPTER 8
Harlow
This is exactly what I needed, I think as my shoes click against the floor to the dressing rooms by Stage Three. My body is on fire with anger. And embarrassment, but I push that aspect aside. The anger is so much easier to hold onto. It fuels me to keep walking with purposeful strides.
So many people turn to look at me as I storm up to his room, but I don’t give a single one of them any attention. They don’t know a damn thing other than the whispers going around the set.
Everyone saw the way Nathan looked at me, as if he was silently accusing me for his shitty acting. And they all heard what Julie said and the implications.
It is not my fault that Nathan isn’t focused.
To top it off, Lydia let me know the “he said, she said” that’s going around now: Nathan told Julie you’re a former flame and it’s a problem you’re here at all.
I haven’t had a soul even start a conversation with me before last night. Yet nearly a dozen people have come up to prod me about my relationship with Nathan. I get this anxious feeling in my gut every time … like he’s talking shit about me or trying to get me fired.
And I’m not going to stand for this.
My knuckles are white by the time I raise my hand to his door, but before I can get any satisfaction out by pounding my fist against it, the door swings open.
At first, Nathan’s surprised, simply because someone happened to be right there when he opened the door. I’m a bit taken aback as well. But then recognition dawns on him and his eyes narrow. I don’t give him a chance to turn me away. I walk right in, brushing against his hard, hot body, ignoring how the heat races through me from just that little touch. My hair sways against my shoulders as I turn around to face him. I’m rocking back and forth from foot to foot slightly as the urge to fight wanes little by little.