Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“Fuck you, Bellamy.” She got off the bed and snatched her jeans from the floor, which I immediately yanked out of her hold.
“Answer the question.” I just wanted her to look at the situation.
“I would never regret you. Clearly, we aren't on the same page.” Her pained expression swept over me. She went to move past me, but I pinned her to the wall.
“I’m not asking if you would regret me, dammit. I’m asking if you would regret this.” I jerked a chin to my room. “The shitty ass life you would have backed yourself into. Not going to Cornell. Not having fancy cars you can demolish anytime you feel like it because money means nothing.”
She shoved against me. “Stop putting your money complex onto me, Bellamy. This is your issue, not mine.”
A fire crackled to life inside me, and when she tried to break free of my hold, I only held onto her harder. “You’re about to make it your issue though. That’s the fucking point!”
Seconds passed. Her eyes searching mine, the slight glimmer of tears building. “You sound like a guy who wants his girlfriend to break up with him because he’s too pussy to just do it.”
My face heated. “If you think for a second, I’d put your feelings over mine if I didn’t want you...”
She closed her eyes, several tears breaking free before she dropped her head back to the wall. “Just stop talking.”
And now I felt like shit. I just wanted to protect her, and I didn’t know how the hell to do that when all I was trying to protect her from was me.
“Fine,” I said. Then I slammed my lips to hers, working her thongs over her hips. By the time I had her on my bed, I was mumbling how much I didn’t want her to leave.
At the end of the day, love makes a man selfish. And I was so in-fucking-love with her, I’d apparently turned into the most selfish bastard there was.
51
Drew
The streetlight from the window danced over Bellamy’s perfect face, casting shadows over his broad shoulders as he moved over me. I clung to him like I could keep him forever if I just held on tight enough.
“You feel so fucking good,” he whispered into the crook of my neck, fucking me deeper. Harder.
I needed this--him--and it terrified me that I could sense him pulling away.
Rejection burrowed into me like a disease, the symptoms of which hadn’t yet fully arisen. But they would. And I knew the feeling well because I’d suffered it my entire life.
What would happen if I went to Cornell?
Bellamy would stay here. We would have a long-distance relationship where we saw each other, when? Every other weekend? I knew how that went when people ran out of things to say in phone calls, and life went on without the person who was so far away. I’d done it with my parents when I first went to boarding school. At first, my dad called me every day and now look at us...
Bellamy would stop missing me because he’d learned to live with my absence. I’d learn to stop missing him because it hurt too much to be away from him all the time. And our lives would drift apart. Then there was the massive elephant in the room that I liked to completely ignore, while Bellamy was now pointing at it and shouting in my face. Money.
It meant nothing to me and something to him, and I hated that. Hated that it was a factor and love wasn’t enough to save us.
I loved him, of that, I was one hundred percent sure. But I wasn’t sure if he loved me. Maybe that’s why he wanted me to go to Cornell, because deep down he didn’t feel the same.
His lips brushed my throat on a groan. Each powerful muscle tensed beneath my fingers, and I met him right there, digging my nails into his back as we both tumbled over the edge together.
He pressed one last kiss to my lips, then rolled to his back, panting.
I laid in the darkness, listening to the heavy rasp of his breaths as a plethora of thoughts flew through my mind.
He wanted me, but he also wanted me to go to New York; to not live this life with him. Back and forth I went. It was like whiplash, and my panicked heart wouldn’t seem to slow. Like it knew what was coming, and bracing my body to run.
All my emotions felt like this messy, knotted ball inside me, and every doubt Bellamy had poured into my head earlier started to surface.
I waited until his breaths had evened out, until his fingers reached for me in sleep, before I got up and went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, trying to calm down.