Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
I don’t bother waiting for a return message. I slide my phone back in my pocket and debate leaving anyway, just so I don’t have to be here.
I don’t have anywhere to go, though.
I could just drive around, but I can’t afford to waste gas. Now that my headphones are busted, I’ll have to start saving up for a new pair. I literally cannot live without them. Not in this apartment. Not with that woman.
I listen at the door, but I don’t hear them in the hall, so I ease the door open. I peek out. Mom and Larry have wandered back to the kitchen, so I guess they’re done being assholes to me for the moment.
I slip into my room and close my door as quietly as possible so as not to attract attention, then I cross to my dresser and grab the broken pieces of my headphones. The speakers are bent, so I know even before I start messing with them, I won’t be able to save them. I’m no techie, but it seems like a lost cause. Maybe Jet could make them work, but I have my doubts. If the speakers are busted, what good are a pair of headphones?
Still, I gather up the broken pieces and collect them in the headphone case like a little leather coffin. I zip it up and shove it in my purse to take over to Jet’s next time, just in case there’s something he can do.
Since I want nothing more than for this night to be over, I decide to go to bed. I change into pajama pants and a t-shirt, then I plug my phone in and turn off my light.
I lie in bed for probably two hours, but I can’t fall asleep.
First, Mom and Larry are being too noisy in the living room, then it gets a million times worse. The TV turns off and I hear the sounds of them fumbling and kissing their way down the hall. I hear her bedroom door open, and then I hear everything else—his grunting, her giggles, the wet, smacking sound of their lips as they kiss.
It’s revolting. I try to block it out, to drag my blanket over my head to insulate my ears, but the walls are paper thin. When I start to hear the coils in the bed creaking in tandem with their grunts and groans, I can’t take it anymore.
I throw back my blanket and quickly gather up my phone and charge cord. I don’t even take the time to put it in my purse, just grab it and open my door as quietly as I can.
My heart races as I make my way through the dark apartment to grab my coat and my shoes. I know they’re otherwise occupied, so they shouldn’t bother me, but I won’t feel like I’m free until I’m out of this building.
I slide my coat on while I’m walking and grab my keys off the ceramic strawberry. I don’t know where I’m going, just… anywhere but here.
That’s what I tell myself as I pull the apartment door closed and head for the stairs, but I know it’s not true.
There’s only one place I can go.
And, if I’m being honest, only one place I want to go.
The road is dark and eerily quiet as I make my way across town. I wish I could text first, but I don’t have his number.
I glance at the clock. It’s late. Too late. I really shouldn’t go over there. He’s probably already in bed.
My tummy feels sick, whether from nerves or because I didn’t have dinner, I’m not sure.
All I know is when I pull in the driveway tonight, I still feel a twinge of that sinking feeling like the first time I stood at this door and waited, agonizing about what would greet me on the other side, but I feel something else this time, too.
Eagerness.
This time, I’m hoping he is the one to answer the door.
And then I realize Jet said he was spending the night at his friend’s house, and I don’t see Jonathan’s car in the driveway.
Is he here alone?
My tummy sinks just in time for a dark shadow to approach on the other side of the frosted glass.
My heart flutters.
The door opens, and there he is.
The house behind him is dark, all the lights already turned off for the night. His pitch black hair is a little mussed, his incredible body mostly visible as he stands in the door wearing nothing more than a pair of gray sweatpants slung low on his narrow hips.
My eyes desperately want to dart to those gloriously muscled pecs, to his strong arms and chiseled abs. With considerable effort, I manage to keep my gaze trained on his face, but since he looks like he may have been asleep, that stirs bedroom thoughts, too.