Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Taking a seat on the stool, I stare at the clean canvas until an image begins to take shape. I see Forest and me. I remember the first time he kissed me because he wanted to and not because he had to. I remember his hands on me, the way he looked at me… and then I realize it’s nothing compared to how he looks at Kennedy – as if no time has passed and they’re still in love.
What’s wrong with me that guys would rather go back to their ex-girlfriends than be with me?
The heartache rips the air from my lungs, and I lower my head, the wave of pain intense… raw… soul-crushing.
A tear drops on my hand, and I close my eyes, trying to focus on my breaths again.
God. I’m not going to survive this.
Clenching my jaw, I reach for my palette, oil paints, and brush. When I have the colors I’ll need, I dip the brush and tilting my head, I begin to attack the canvas with all the fear I feel. I spill the heartbreak from seeing Forest with Kennedy into every brushstroke.
An hour later, when the bell rings, Professor Neel walks to where I’m still painting. He comes to stand behind me for a long while, then he says, “Shut the door behind you when you leave.”
“I will,” I murmur, not taking my eyes from the blacks and grays bleeding over the canvas.
When I’m finally alone, a sob escapes my lips. My hand continues to move as my tears mix with the paint.
I’m going to lose Forest. I can feel it in my soul. Kennedy is going to rip us apart.
This is Eli and Taytum all over again.
My shoulders begin to shudder from the heartache swallowing me whole.
Five days. That’s all I got with Forest.
My shortest relationship.
I cover my mouth with the back of my hand as a cry rips out of me.
I’m cursed. It doesn’t matter whether I love him. It doesn’t matter how I feel or what I want. I’m cursed when it comes to relationships.
Lost in my pain, I continue painting, creating an abstract view of the love I got to experience with Forest before it was ripped away from me.
Chapter 13
FOREST
When five o’clock comes and goes, worry grips my heart in a suffocating hold.
I’ve looked all over for Aria, but there’s no sign of her. As I walk toward the restaurant for dinner, I have zero appetite. When I get to the entrance and Aria’s spot at our table is empty, I come to a standstill.
Kennedy’s eyes fall on me, and she waves, but right now, I’m too worried about Aria to acknowledge Kennedy.
Turning around, I head towards the security office, my gaze scanning the grounds for Aria.
Fuck. I haven’t seen Aria since lunch at twelve. Where is she?
If I can just find her so we can talk about Kennedy being back. I know Aria, and I’m sure she’s worried out of her mind about what this means for us.
When I reach the security office, I step inside, and one of the guards instantly jumps to his feet. “Mr. Reyes, how can we help?”
“Search the campus and find Aria Chargill,” I say, tension coming off me in waves.
He nods and turns to the screens. My eyes dart over all of them, and still not seeing her, the suffocating hold around my heart tightens.
Christ, Aria, where are you?
The guard begins to contact the other guards on campus, and as each one comes back, saying they don’t see her, my body grows tenser.
After what feels like forever, one finally says, ‘Miss Chargill is in the art building. She’s painting.’
“Thank fuck!” I dart out of the office and break out into a run. Students part in front of me like the red sea, and when I see the guard, and he gestures to the classroom, I nod my head at him. “Thanks.”
I shove the door open and stalking inside, my relief of finding her and anger for being worried has me snapping, “What the fuck is going on? I’ve looked all over for you. Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”
Aria’s head snaps up, and her eyes are wide on me. “I… I’m painting.”
Seeing she’s okay, the grip on my heart lessens. “I sent you messages and tried to call. Where’s your phone?”
She digs in her bag and pulls the device out. “It’s on silent because I was in class, and I’ve been working on the painting since then.” She checks, and when she sees how long I’ve been looking for her, she mutters, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d worry.”
I grab one of the stools from the other easels and place it next to her. Sitting down with my body facing her, I rest my forearms on my knees and stare at her. “What’s going on?”