Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 67432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
I couldn’t allow myself to get hurt again. Nope. Not doing it.
I started down the hall, leaving Eric to fend for himself. I heard him say another set of goodbyes before following behind me. We didn’t speak, the silence almost suffocating. I got in the shower and played some music to try and change the mood, but not even Bad Bunny could salvage this mess.
The silence broke sometime after Eric’s shower, when we were almost done getting ready.
“Everything’s okay, right?” Eric asked as he ran some gel through his hair. We were in the bathroom, steam still clouding the air from Eric’s apparently burning hot shower.
“Yeah, no, everything’s fine. Why?”
“Because you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder after we kissed that last time.”
“I have?” I asked, knowing damn well that I had.
“I mean, unless I’m imagining it. I just want to make sure I’m not doing anything to upset you, that’s all.”
We locked eyes in the foggy mirror. It was a large bathroom, with two sinks spaced feet apart from each other. The mirror had a built-in light that made it look as if we were filming a skin-care routine for a national brand. “I’m not upset. I’m just… thrown. That’s all.”
“We can slow things down. Add some more rules.” He looked like a scolded puppy. It warmed my heart to see how much he cared about me, which only made me more annoyed.
Couldn’t you care this much about me back when you were pushing me out of your apartment?
“I think the rules we have now are fine. I just have to adjust to being here, being with you, being without my—” I choked on the word, unable to say it. I looked at myself in the mirror, surprised. I wasn’t expecting these kinds of emotions, but the storm clouds rolled in without a second’s warning. Thunder clapped in my chest. I swallowed a lump of rocks and wiped at my cheek.
Eric reached across the small chasm that had formed between us. His hand on my shoulder was a welcome touch. “We’re here for her,” Eric said. “Just remember that.”
I nod, which quickly morphed into a head shake. “Which also means we’re suspecting someone in this villa of orchestrating her death. So fucking fucked-up.” The sink was cold as my fingers clasped around the edge of it. Eric’s hand moved from my shoulder to my lower back, the trail of warmth fighting against the icy-cold dread and gloom currently setting up residence inside of me.
I turned on the cold water and pooled some in my hand, splashing it on my face before turning off the faucet. “It’s fine,” I said, sounding more like I was trying to convince myself than Eric. “Let’s just go to dinner. I’m sure everyone’s seated already.”
Eric glanced at his watch. “It’s only five thirty. Isn’t dinner at seven?”
“Yeah, but my family’s weird, as you can already tell.” I spritzed myself with a dash of cologne and left Eric in the bathroom, slipping on some socks and then my sneakers just as Eric walked into the room, his hair perfectly done and his black button-up shirt perfectly pressed and his dimples perfectly framing that perfect smile of his.
“Ready,” he said, hands casually in the pockets of his dark jeans.
I got off the bed and turned my back to him, trying to break whatever spell he had cast on me. “Let’s go.”
The spell didn’t break. Not even with Eric walking three steps behind me. I still wanted to turn around and throw him against the wall, kissing him in a way that made this real. I wanted to kiss him and to hold him and to make him feel how badly I wanted him.
Thankfully, he didn’t ask me why I appeared to be running from some kind of demon because I wasn’t entirely sure I even had an excuse this time.
We were the last ones to make it to the dinner table, just like I had said. My entire family was already sitting around the long table, wine poured and bread placed on tiny plates. The villa had come with a private chef, who was just walking into the room with a tray of appetizers as I took my seat next to Jen.
The dining room had a sliding glass wall that opened up to the yard, so on days with good weather (like today), it was like we were eating outside with the French Alps as our dinner guests. A gentle breeze rolled in and made the silk white table runner shift and dance underneath the vibrant bouquet made of pastel pink roses, sunshine-yellow sunflowers, and long stalks of lavender.
My mom’s three favorite flowers.
“Eric, is this your first time in France?” Jen asked as she leaned over me to grab some of the bacon-wrapped dates the chef had just placed on the table.