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 hold on to the fire, clenching my teeth, and focusing on exactly how I was going to start.
His motions are slow, deliberately so. He takes his time closing the door, even taking a moment to glance out and see who’s watching. My self-consciousness gets the best of me for only a second. Maybe a split second. Until the door closes, leaving us alone and I remember exactly what happened.
“What’s going on?” I ask him evenly, although I’m sure he can tell I’m pissed. “You can ignore me all you want, but fucking up your takes and blaming it on me is not okay.” My throat feels hoarse as I finally get the words out.
His brow rises slightly and he cracks his neck to the left, seemingly unaffected. Bastard.
“I didn’t come to the set to disturb you or,” I raise my hands in the air dramatically, “or throw you off your game.”
He’s quiet. He’s always done this to me. He leaves me to be the one to carry the conversation. He likes to see me squirm, but I’m not willing to play his game right now.
“I didn’t even know you’d seen me!” I screech and the rawness of my voice hurts my throat as the words escape.
Nathan stands there, so much taller than me, muscular and brooding in a way that should intimidate me. Maybe even threaten me, but all it does is make me angry.
He wanted to hurt me.
My teeth grind against one another as I take two steps forward and shove my palms against him. His muscles are firm and unmoving; the shove doesn’t make his hard body move in the least. But it provokes him. It accomplishes exactly what I knew it would.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, looking down at me as his body sways with the need to move. His feet are solidly planted though. He’s only giving me the tiniest bit. And it hurts.
“I didn’t know you’d be here,” I say and my throat closes. My fight is practically gone.
I loved him. He’s the first man I loved. My first in every way.
“I find it hard to believe,” he says.
“Fuck you,” I spit at him and take half a step back. “If I wanted to see you …” I start to say, but he interrupts me.
“You’d have come days ago. I know.” His eyes heat and his expression morphs from disinterest to pissed off. “Yet you didn’t, and now you’re here. Why is that?”
He’s angry I didn’t come see him? He’s got to be kidding me.
“You knew I was here. Didn’t you?”
His eyes flash, and he tries to play it off but I saw.
“This isn’t on me. This is on you,” I say and push my pointer finger into his chest. “You’re the one who ended it and said to stay away.” You’re the one who left me when I needed you. The memory comes back and I practically choke on the words. “This is on you,” I repeat and try to make the words come out strong, but I’ve never sounded so weak in my life. I’m back to being the frightened girl I was that night. Left alone and abandoned and with no one to help me.
I hate what he does to me. I hate how much I crave it too. He’s silent and that’s what makes me shove him again.
It destroys his last bit of restraint.
“Is this what you wanted, Harlow?” he says as he lowers his head and closes the space between us, grabbing my hips and pushing me backward. If I wanted to, I could let him do it. I could let him push me onto the bed. But I don’t. I smack his hands away, my heart racing wildly. Yes, it’s what I want. But he’ll never know that. I won’t let him know what he does to me.
“Why are you such a dick?” I sneer at him. “I didn’t do shit to you,” I tell him as tears prick my eyes. I won’t cry though, I never do. I just bury things deep down, right where the memories of us belong.
His brows raise in feigned shock. Me?” he asks, pointing to his chest. “What the hell did I do to deserve that, Harlow?”
It shouldn’t get to me like it does. I pictured this happening in so many ways. I didn’t think he’d still hate me though. I thought maybe time would ease some of the tension, but it’s so raw and right in front of us. It won’t be ignored.
“You told me to stay away and I did,” I tell him.
“But now you’re back.”
“Some would say you’re back.”
“So, now I need to stay away from the entire East Coast?” he says sarcastically, decreasing the space between us by taking another large step. It’s not lost on me that I’m nearly backed into a corner. And that’s exactly how I feel.