Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
His nostrils flare. “Maybe you should be happy about all this. About the phone, about the blackmail, about me breaking all the fucking rules for you. You wanted to be my Lolita, didn’t you? Well, there you fucking go. And besides, I never said that’s all you’re good enough for. I—”
“You didn’t have to,” I snap—no, actually, I scream because see? He is mocking me. “What you’re doing says everything, isn’t it? What you’re doing says that all you care about is yourself. What you’re doing is saying that you’re a selfish fucking asshole who will not only get his hands on Shep’s phone and read our messages, our private correspondence, but you will lie about it. You will make a mockery of it. You will violate our privacy and you will sit there and you will fucking lie about it. You will sit there and you will insult this awful situation even further. What it says to me, Stellan, is that you’re dangerous. You’re dangerous to my happiness. You’re a danger to my heart. To my happily ever after. You’re fucking dangerous,” I breathe out sharply. “You must think I’m sooooo stupid, don’t you? You must think I have no sense in my body. You know what, I’m not talking to you. I’m done talking to you. This is over. This bullshit is—”
“You don’t need to talk to me,” he finally bites out, putting an end to my tirade.
And I realize that… he looks stricken somehow.
He looks taken aback. Shocked, surprised.
And I don’t know what it was that I said that’s making him look that way. All harsh and white.
Harsh as ice. White as snow.
“S-Stellan,” I whisper.
It’s as if he wakes up, his eyes blinking. “But you still need my help.”
I want to ask him about it.
I want to ask him about what just happened. Why he looked like that. What did I say? I mean, I said a lot of things, but what exactly was it that made him look like he’s seeing a ghost?
But I don’t.
I won’t.
It’s none of my business. Not after what he pulled.
“I do not, in any way, shape, or form, need your help,” I deny.
“You texted that you’re nervous.”
“And the fact that you read it makes you an absolute asshole.”
“I—”
“No, it makes you a devil,” I speak over him. “That’s what you are. You’re a devil.”
Tightness ripples on his face. “And if you refuse my help, then you’d be as stupid as you just called yourself.”
I’m gripping the phone so tightly that I should be worried I’ll break it.
I’ll smash it into pieces with my bare hands.
But that’s okay.
Because I want that. I want to smash it and crush it.
I want to climb inside it and smack his pretty fucking face. Because yes, I am stupid. And for a second or two back there, I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that he really got his hands on Shepard’s phone and it’s him I’ve been talking to for the past weeks. That it’s him I’ve been dancing for.
All because he really wanted to get to know me.
He did it for me.
To chase after me.
To woo me.
He did not. He’s lying.
Because if he really wanted me, if he really cared about me even a little bit, he wouldn’t be blackmailing me. He wouldn’t be playing with my emotions. He wouldn’t be pretending and shame on me for even entertaining the thought that somehow all of his is flattering instead of what it actually is.
Despicable and disgusting.
“Fine.” I clench my teeth. “I’m stupid then. Are you happy now? I’m—”
“Look”—he clenches his teeth too and I hate myself for thinking how sharp that turns his already killer jawline—“this is your debut. This is your fucking dream, isn’t it? This is the reason why you were sneaking out that night, the night I met you. This is your destiny. So then fucking seize it. You’re nervous; I can help. Let me help. You can go back to hating me when I’m done running lines with you. So stop wasting both our time and send me your script so we can start.”
I don’t.
I choose to once again stare at him for a few moments.
Then, in a voice that’s much lower than before, “You want to run lines with me?”
His chest moves again with a breath. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do in rehearsals?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“So then that’s what we’re doing.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to”—I swallow—“help me?”
It’s his turn to study me for a few moments. Not that he wasn’t already doing that but still. He takes pause to do it now. He takes pause to flick his gaze over my face, from the top of my messy bun down to my stubborn chin. He also takes in my sleep T-shirt. A loose boyfriend T-shirt with Minnie Mouse on it that I got at a thrift store and that I wear when I mean business. Business as in when I’m trying to practice in front of the mirror and not sit around and… well, think of this cold and cruel asshole.