Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“It’s not Will, Steven. I just don’t see you that way.” Before I can tell him anything else, he kisses me. I freeze at how quickly it happens.
I didn’t ask him to kiss me, and I don’t want his kiss. I shove him back, and when he realizes I’m not smiling, his smile drops, and his brows pinch together.
“Really? Nothing?”
“Nothing. And the only reason I’m not kicking you in the balls right now is because I know you thought that was a good move to make. It wasn’t. Don’t ever do that to a woman again.” I wipe at my lips, feeling disgusted, not having the heart to tell him that his breath still smells.
“I’m going to catch my own cab,” I say. “Thank you for everything, but I think we’re done here.” I walk away, holding my jacket tightly.
“He won’t ever love you. You know it’s a waste of time, right?” Steven shouts out behind me. I say nothing back. I didn’t mention Will, he did. So, I’m not playing into that game at all.
When I round the corner, I throw my hands in the air, furious. “For fuck’s sake.”
“I bet he tasted foul,” Will says, leaning against the wall, watching me. “Would you like me to change the taste in your mouth?”
I ignore him and continue walking. He kicks off the wall and follows behind me. “Your apartment is the other way,” he says, and I hate that he knows that. He knows everything about me, and yet I still can’t figure out what that brilliant mind of his is thinking. I gave up on trying to figure it out weeks ago.
“You can’t just hack my emails,” I yell, knowing he can hear me. He’s smart enough to at least keep some distance between us as I weave through people.
“Yes, well I wanted to spend quality time with you, is that a crime?” he says behind me.
“It is. Move on like you were supposed to. Stop dragging this out,” I furiously say without turning to look over my shoulder at him.
“I’d like to drag something, but not you, maybe through you…” I gasp in shock, and come to a stop to face him, embarrassed if others heard. He seems smug with himself as if knowing that would get me to stop hastily walking and get me to bite.
“Come on, love, just stop and let me drive you, home.” He sounds desperate.
“Just leave me alone, Will! I can’t keep doing this dumb shit. We’re not teenagers. There is no us! You can’t leave the past and I won’t make you!” I snap. People walk around us, curious about the spectacle.
“I’m trying, but it’s not easy for me. But you didn’t tell me about the future we could have. You kept that from me,” he scolds. I wince at the lethal edge in his tone. The vulnerability and hurt. He knows about the pregnancy. He has to.
I grind my molars. And like a coward, I flip him off and keep walking. I can’t talk to him about this. It has nothing to do with him. It’s my decision whether I keep and raise the baby on my own. And the decision won’t be dependent on this man.
I shouldn’t have worn my heels today. That was a stupid mistake. One I’m now paying for.
I cross my arms over my chest and try to walk faster, but I can still sense that he’s following me, so I try my hardest to lose him in the crowd. I’m unsure why he’s here, and to be honest, it’s messing with my head. We aren’t teenagers, and I feel like we laid everything out perfectly before I left New York, so seeing him again makes my heart beat faster and my hands sweatier, and I hate that he can get this reaction from me. No other man gives me heart palpitations like he does, even if he is hacking my emails.
Fucking asshole.
Before I can turn the corner, arms wrap around me from behind, and my legs are flipped out from beneath me as Will carries me bridal style, knocking the air out of my lungs. He turns me around and starts walking back the way we came.
“What are you doing? Put me down!” I demand as I thrash in his hold, equally embarrassed at the people watching us. I purposefully push at his face, which he spectacularly ignores.
“No, you’re cold and not thinking right. You’re angry and irrational. You can hit me when we’re in the car or you can wait until we get to your place. But we’re discussing this.”
This.
Us.
The enormity of what hasn’t yet been said out loud.
I kick back and forth, trying to escape his ironclad hold, furious that he knows. Wild that he can’t just let me go, to let me have enough breath from him to think straight. I keep hitting because I should hate this man. I do hate this man. But a tiny part of me clings to the fact that he followed me. A small part of me breaking, realizing that I can’t keep doing this.