Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
I got to his house, and Hendrix answered the door, a headset on his head, and a bag of chips in his hand.
“Zepp isn’t here.” He rammed a chip into his mouth, crumbs falling to his shirt.
I stepped inside, and he wandered back into the living room, electronic gunfire rang out before Hendrix shouted at whoever was playing online with him. I typed out a text to Zepp on my way up to his room.
Me: Where are you?
Without him here, it seemed so empty. My phone dinged.
Asshole: Out
A weird sensation settled in my chest. It was somewhere between panic and anger, and honestly, I was getting fed up with whatever this shit was.
His closed sketchbook sat on his desk, tempting me to look, even though it was off-limits. I trailed my fingers over the matte-black surface, debating it. It was an invasion of privacy, but at a time when I couldn’t read Zepp, that book had told me more than words ever could.
I picked it up, thumbing through the pages until I came to the last picture. A car? His most recent drawings were random objects, some just blurs of color. His sketches were usually emotive, but these were just…nothing. And that almost worried me more.
It was past midnight when Zepp slipped into bed beside me, whiskey strong on his breath. “You’re still here,” he asked.
“Did you ride home drunk?”
“No.” His arm came around me, tugging me close. “You shouldn't care, though.”
Of course I should care. I loved him. And that comment annoyed me. “Why wouldn’t I care?”
“I didn’t say you wouldn’t.” His hand pressed between my thighs, and I clamped my legs shut. “I said you shouldn’t.”
“Well, great. That really clears shit up, Zepp.”
“Don’t.” He slurred against my throat. “Don’t do that. I want you, Roe.”
My temper bubbled to the surface, driven by hurt. He hadn’t touched me in days, and it felt an awful lot like he was avoiding me. I just couldn’t work out what I’d done. “Do you? Or is it just because you’re drunk?”
“I always want you, Roe.” His mouth covered mine, and as hard as I fought it, I caved for him. Until hot, angry tears stung my eyes. Then I shoved away from him and sat up, pushing the comforter away.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Home.”
“This is your home.” It shouldn’t have felt like a blade in the ribs, but it did. I grabbed my shirt and tugged it over my head. “I didn’t stay here, just to be a hole for you to stick your drunk dick in.”
“Then why did you wait?” He got out of bed, stumbling to the side before regaining his balance.
“You know what. I don’t know.” I threw my hands into the air, hating that I suddenly felt so unimportant to him. Like I could be any girl in his bed.
He wrapped his arms around my waist, and I tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let me. “I need you, Roe.” His lips pressed to my neck. Warm and soft. “I love you. Please…” The sad thing was, I craved his touch, his love, and I hated myself for it. “I’m sorry I’ve been a dick. I just…” He kissed my throat again.
“You what, Zepp?”
“Don’t deserve you.” His hand crept over my chest. “But fuck, I’m selfish.”
“You’re only selfish when you’re a dick.”
A soft laugh rumbled over my skin. “If only that were the truth. We’d be good.”
Which meant we weren’t good. Or at least he didn’t think so. I was losing him, and it felt like I was clinging on by my fingernails. “I love you, Zepp.” It was a confession, a plea.
“And I fucking love you.”
Then why did this suddenly feel so complicated? Within seconds, he had me undressed and pinned to the mattress, his heavy body on top of mine. His mouth covered mine.
“I would marry you if I could.”
And I’d give him forever if he’d let me, but I knew he wouldn’t. He moved slow and steady, so unlike him. I grabbed his face and kissed him, the taste of whiskey transferring from his tongue to mine.
He shifted me until I was straddling his lap. “You fucked me up, Roe.”
“You fucked me up, too.” My hips rolled over him. My body sought him out as naturally as it drew breath. Then he buried himself so deep my lungs caught.
“I’m sorry.”
I gripped his hair and touched my forehead to his. “You screwed me up in the best way, though.”
“I really didn’t.” He guided my hips over his for a minute, closing his eyes. “But, I promise, no one will ever mean as much as you.”
And those words chased away every trace of pleasure in my body because he’d just told me we had no future. That someone else would come after me. Tears stung my eyes, and I forced them back.