Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99675 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99675 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“Okay, that’s good. I got this,” I say, scooting away. Grabbing some chalk, I clap my hands together, making a big show of it, outwardly exuding confidence while a larger part of me wishes I was wearing a diaper.
Whatever. It’ll be fine. I’m athletic and very nimble. I took years of modern dance and some gymnastics when I was a kid because it was the only way to burn off all the energy I had. How hard can this be? I look up again and my stomach plummets.
“Are you sure? Because we can do it together. I can talk you through it.”
“Shhh, quiet. You’re messing with my mojo.”
Ethan’s lips quiver while I’m all business, zoned in and focused on recalling the path he traveled.
The first half of the wall is easy. I’m getting the hang of this rather quickly. This rock climbing thing is fun. I never doubted myself, not for a minute.
As I make my way up the rock, I can hear Ethan shouting words of encouragement. Right, like I need him to play cheerleader. Before I know what’s what, I reach the top. Much faster than I anticipated. And now…
Huh? Now what? Now what? Now…what? At this point I am desperately trying to recall what Shaggy said while I was busy making googley eyes at the man I live with, my friend, who I have less than zero business making googley eyes at.
A million scenarios run through my mind at once. In the meantime, I begin to sweat a little, my heart beating a little bit faster. Then I look down. I shouldn’t have done that. I definitely should not have done that.
The blood rushes out of my head and goes straight to my feet. My mouth is so dry I can’t even lick my lips. My hands are shaking. The shaking spreads, infecting the rest of my body parts.
“Are you okay?” Ethan shouts.
No, I’m not okay. I am so far from okay, I can’t even see okay on the horizon. A screechy wail reverberates in my head. Sounds like one of those howler monkeys on Animal Planet. It’s me. I’m the one screaming. Except nothing is coming out of my mouth. I can’t even feel my tongue.
“Hold on. I’m coming to get you,” a deep voice shouts.
I’m paralyzed, clinging to the wall by fear alone because my limbs are jelly.
“Amber. Hold on.” His voice draws closer. “Be there in a minute…almost there.”
As soon as he reaches me, I go to grab him.
“Easy,” he says in a low, soothing voice when I almost dislodge the both of us from the wall.
“Ethan.” My voice is reed thin. Trying not to hyperventilate, I focus on soft, brown eyes.
“Ethan.”
“I’m here.”
“Ethan.”
“I’m going to talk you through it and we’ll rappel down together.”
“Ethan.”
His lips twitch. “That’s the fourth time you’ve used my name since we’ve met. We may have to stay awhile so I can hear you say it again.”
If I wasn’t about to faint, I’d deck him. “Get me down.”
“Look at my legs,” he orders. “See how they’re spread and stiff against the wall?” I nod vigorously. “Do it.” Without delay, I do as I’m told . “Were going to bounce gently off the wall as we rappel down together. Slowly. Keep a firm grip on the line but not too firm.” With that, we begin our descent.
The minute my feet hit solid ground, the adrenaline drains out of me, instantly replaced by two things: a bone deep weariness and out and out fury. I don’t think. I just react. I cock my fist back and punch him in the gut...and hurt my hand in the process because I may as well have hit a brick wall.
“Ouuuuuch. You asshat!” I scream. I shake out my hand and cradle it. “All I wanted to do was binge watch The Affair and eat French fries!”
Before I get a chance to say another word he wraps me in a bear hug, my face smothered between his pects while his arms hold me securely. I have no fight left in me, my limbs sapped of all strength. Instead, I burrow closer and let him hold me up. And then I get a giant whiff of him.
What is it with this guy? He’s like catnip, or crack cocaine––totally intoxicating, completely irresistible, and most importantly, a very bad habit. Not only does the man stink of virility, but there’s something so darn comforting about his scent. That’s the dangerous one. Virility, I have no use for. As a matter of fact, he needs to keep that shit as far away from me as possible.
“Athhhat,” I half shout, my voice muffled by the hills of muscle I’m squashed between. His chest heaves from the laughter he’s trying to contain.
Gripping my shoulders, he holds me away and inspects my face. “Are you hurt?”