Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46914 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46914 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
But there I go again, rushing ahead.
I’m attracted to her. An understatement, but true.
That doesn’t mean she’s genuine.
I believe she is. I want her to be.
But what if I’m wrong?
What if she’s like Kennedy, another LA climber?
I must be magic, I reply lamely. Because yeah, I can tell it over text. If you won’t give me your name, what am I supposed to call you?
Do you always respond when strangers text you?
I smirk, sitting on the chair, my whole body pumping with the force of the conversation. My entire world is changing shape, taking shape, as if I’ve been waiting my entire life for Alice.
No, not as if. I have been. Waiting.
But then Alice sends another text which slams right into me. And not in a good way.
Won’t Kennedy get jealous?
I stare at the message, my hand trembling, wondering how to respond. I want to tell her that the Kennedy excuse was just that, an excuse… a way to dance around the issue of publicly discussing my brother’s death.
But that wouldn’t be smart. I don’t know this woman.
I feel like I do… but ultimately, I don’t.
I wish she was here so I could hold her, kiss her gently, and tell her that nobody could ever compare with her.
Strangers don’t text me often, I reply.
Why do I feel like you just dodged a question…
You did too, when I asked what I should call you if you won’t give me your name.
There’s a pause, leaving me to look up at the stars, a few visible above the city’s light pollution. I was planning on moving to my Colorado home soon once I’d sorted things with Aurora, but the thought of Alice kept me here, hoping to see her again, hold her, kiss her, and love her.
Love her.
The words repeat in my mind.
It’s more evidence I need to be very, very careful.
I’m rushing ahead so fast whiplash could cripple me.
That’s true, she replies. I guess we’re both a little mysterious, huh?
You more than me. You know my name. You know who and what I am. Yet, all I know is you’re a twenty-one year old woman.
I know more than that, of course.
I know I want to kneel before her, pushing her legs apart and greedily pressing my face against her sex. I know I want to kneel in a different context, too, taking a ring box from my pocket….
Plus, there’s all the stuff she told me about her sister, her Mom, and the collision.
That wasn’t fair. You’ve shared things with me. But you have to admit that this isn’t exactly normal…
Maybe I’m not interested in normal. Maybe I stopped being interested in that the day my mom died. I get it, though. It’s fine. We don’t have to text anymore.
You better not go silent on me, Miss Mystery. Even if you don’t give me your name, I’m enjoying this.
Miss Mystery, huh? Is that the name you’ve settled on?
What other choice do I have?
Another pause gives me time to wonder again what she was doing.
Maybe she’s not in bed with those tempting shorts on, showing her thick voluptuous legs just begging to be caressed and lavished with attention.
Maybe she’s still in her work clothes, the tight black skirt, the white shirt hugging her breasts, as if daring me to rip it open – buttons flying everywhere – and revealing her bra.
This was a mistake. Forget about this. I shouldn’t have contacted you. I’m sorry, Alice finally texts back.
You don’t have to be sorry. And it wasn’t a mistake.
She doesn’t respond, making me want to send another message, and then another….
Making me want to get her address and go to her, slam my fist against her door, and kiss her the second she opens it.
But there’s that voice in the back of my head, the one whispering this could all be a ploy.
She comes on hot, then turns cold. Reeling me in like so many men in my position have been reeled in.
I have to force myself to put my phone down, to not text her again.
But I can’t shake the feeling this is the start of something.
CHAPTER 6
Alice
My alarm startles me awake minutes after I finally get to sleep.
Okay, not minutes, a couple of hours.
But it feels like minutes.
I never planned on sending all that stuff to Weston last night, but it felt so natural, and so much easier over text than it could ever be in real life.
It was difficult to sleep as I kept wondering… is he going to text me back?
Waiting for my phone to vibrate kept me awake, made it difficult not to obsess about possible messages.
Despite everything, we talked.
He doesn’t know who I am, fine, and he might cringe if he did. He knows my age, my gender… but there’s a big difference between an LA-glamorous woman and me.
Plus, he didn’t deny wanting Kennedy, the woman whose social media has exploded since Weston’s statement went public.