Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 67324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Only secrets are kept behind locked doors.
Secrets you don’t want the world to know.
What secrets could Mykel be holding behind that door?
“THIS IS . . . WOW,” I say, putting another piece of tender chicken into my mouth.
Mykel managed to make some chicken, vegetable and noodle dish that has so much flavor, I’m already thinking about my second bowl and wondering if he’s going to judge me for eating so much.
I don’t even care; I’m going back for more.
“It’s nothin’,” Mykel says, his voice low and husky. He puts another forkful in his mouth and I try not to stare as he chews.
He even looks good doing that.
Seriously.
“It’s more than nothing; it’s divine. Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“My mom,” he tells me.
“She must have made some pretty incredible meals.”
“She did.”
God, he just doesn’t like talking to me, does he?
It doesn’t seem to matter what I do. Mykel seems to have this wall up around me. A wall that’s so high, not even I can attempt to climb it. I’m not sure what it is that he doesn’t like, but it does bother me. It bothers me because he knows nothing about me. He doesn’t know who I am, not right down to my core. He just sees me as this annoying woman who he wants out of his life, and his club.
“What is it about me you don’t like?”
He stops chewing and looks over at me. For a moment, I see a tiny flash of shock cross his face. Like he didn’t expect I’d actually ask that question. Then, he continues on chewing. It takes him a few moments to answer. “You’re just hard to deal with.”
Hard to deal with?
He hasn’t liked me from the moment I walked in the door.
It has nothing to do with being hard to deal with. He never even got to hello before he’d made up his mind.
“That’s a cop-out,” I mutter, and shove another mouthful in. It suddenly doesn’t taste as good.
“How is it a fuckin’ cop-out?”
“Because you don’t know me at all. You never even said hello before you decided you didn’t like me.”
“I don’t like smart mouths.”
“Oh, well, I don’t like jerks who don’t even give people a chance.”
He shakes his head and then stands, walking out of the room. Just like that, he exits the conversation. No explanation. Nothing.
He’s done, and that’s that.
“Fucking wanker,” I mutter under my breath and place my bowl down.
It bothers me like crazy. It bothers me that something about my personality makes him dislike me so much. It makes me feel stupid, and like I need to prove myself to him. I don’t, of course, but it doesn’t mean those feelings aren’t there.
My cheeks burn, just a little, and I glance around the now empty room.
Mykel might be judging me before he knows me, but the more I think about it, the more I realize the problem is his, and not mine.
Mykel has a lot of skeletons in his closet, and perhaps he’s starting to let them decide how he feels.
It’s not a good trait to judge someone before you know them, and Mykel is proving that, with every passing second.
I stand, unable to finish my dinner. I place some wrap on the top of the bowl and put it in the fridge for tomorrow, and then I go upstairs into my room and close the door. I lock it, because fuck him, it’s time to call Zariah. I miss not having her around. I miss not being able to vent to her after a hard day. She’s the only family I have here, and she’s the one person I’d trust with my life.
“How’s it going, sis?” she answers the phone, sounding out of breath. “I was going to call you soon.”
“Have you been doing that awful thing again?” I murmur into the phone.
She snorts. “You mean running?”
“Yes, that . . .”
“You know the answer always will be yes to that question.”
“And you know my answer will always be why?”
She laughs. “How are you, Waverly? How are things with Mykel?”
“I can’t stand him. He makes me want to go in there and gouge his eyes out with my fingers, slowly, just to watch him scream in agony and beg for me to stop.”
Zariah goes silent for a second. “You watch way too much television and that was an incredibly morbid thing to say.”
“Thank you.” I smile, flopping onto the bed.
“So, I guess it’s not going well then?”
“That’s one way of putting it. The man can’t stand me, and yet I’ve done nothing to him to earn that kind of hatred. I asked him tonight why he didn’t like me and all he could say was ‘Because you’re hard to deal with.’ I mean, what even is that?”
Zariah huffs. “He’s a moody one, alright. It’s like when they get patched in they automatically become moody jerks. I had to deal with Kendric today, and let me tell you, that man is something else entirely.”