Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“Well, he sounds like a real…catch.”
I let out a laugh. “I honestly don’t know what he’s doing here. I haven’t seen him since that night.”
“Let me see you to your apartment.” He takes off his seat belt.
“No, it’s fine. Kyle’s harmless. But thank you. And thank you for the ride home.”
He’s staring at me, saying nothing. His jaw is tight. He looks like he’s angry with me, and I don’t know what I’ve done now to piss him off.
And, honestly, I don’t want to know.
It was surprisingly not a bad night—once the movie got going, and he stopped talking. I don’t want it to be spoiled.
Although I have a feeling that Kyle is going to ruin it for me when I get out of this truck and go over there.
“Well, I’ll see you,” I say to Ares. I retrieve my bag from the floor, hang it on my shoulder, and open the truck door.
“You gonna be able to get out okay?” He doesn’t sound like he’s being sarcastic for once but actually asking a genuine question.
I glance over at him. “I’ll be fine. But, if I break my ankle on the way down, I’m suing. Just so you know.”
I grin, and he chuckles softly.
I shift my butt to the edge of the seat. Holding on to the door with one hand, I jump down, landing steadily on the sidewalk.
“See? Easy,” I tell him with flair before shutting the door of his truck.
I cross the street, walking toward my building. As I get closer, I make my footfalls a little heavier, so Kyle will hear me.
And he does. His head comes up. The moment he spots me, he stands up. Then, I spot the bottle of beer on the step beside him.
He’s been drinking.
Of course he’s been drinking.
“What are you doing here?” I say to him as I approach, coming to a stop at the bottom of the steps.
My eyes take him in for the first time in almost seven months.
He looks the same—but also different.
It’s like I’m seeing him through fresh eyes, which I guess I am. His once-spiky blond hair is now overgrown and looks like it hasn’t been washed for days. Dark circles ring his eyes. His cheeks are hollow. His clothes look disheveled.
Is that how I used to look? A mess.
Kyle comes down the steps to me. I see the sway in his movements, telling me that he’s had a lot more than one beer. He stops on the bottom step, standing before me.
The smell of beer on his breath instantly hits me and throws me back to another time.
A bad time.
I take a step back, and he notices, a dark frown crossing his face.
I wrap my arms over my chest. “What are you doing here?” I repeat, more forcefully this time.
“I came to see you. I’ve been waiting for over an hour. Where have you been?”
“Out.”
“Okay,” he says when he realizes I’m not going to elaborate. “I tried to call you after that night. But I kept getting your voicemail. Then, it said the number had been disconnected.”
“I changed my number.”
“To keep me away?”
“That was one of the reasons.”
His shoulders slump. “I, um…heard you went to rehab.”
“I did. But you didn’t come here to talk about my time in rehab. So, what is it you want?”
His eyes lift to me. “I miss you.”
Oh, hell no.
“And it took you almost seven months to realize that?”
“I haven’t just realized. I’ve never gotten over you. I’ve only just found the courage to come see you.”
“Sure, Kyle. And does Cherry know you’re here? I’m assuming you guys are dating. I’d hope so after I found her with her mouth around your cock.”
He winces. “It was a stupid mistake, babe. She’d been hounding me for months, trying to get with me. I resisted, but that night, I was…I don’t know.” He pushes his hand into his hair. “I loved you. I love you.”
“Funny way of showing it. And you know what, Kyle? I don’t believe you. I think Cherry saw sense and dumped you, and for some reason, you thought it’d be a good idea to come and see me because you figured I’d be dumb enough to take you back. Well, news flash: I’m sober now, meaning I’m not as stupid as I used to be.”
“Come on, Arianna Banana.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“You used to love it when I called you that.”
“Nope. I always hated it. I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings at the time, so I pretended to like it. Guess what? I don’t give two shits about your feelings anymore.”
“You’re being a bitch.” He steps close, getting in my face, but I refuse to move or show any signs of weakness. He’s not huge by guy standards—five-ten—but he’s still a hell of a lot taller than me. “What? You think you’re better than me now because you’re all sober and shit and working for your daddy?”