Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
I think I’ll try and get some done tonight, I reply. But yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe I should stop beating myself up every time I take a nap.
There’s no maybe about it, Della. It’s the truth. You don’t need that. The fact you care enough to feel guilty means you’re going to do well.
But then what if I stop feeling guilty, huh? Will I stop caring, then stop doing well?
You’re too smart for me.
I smile, my heart picking up pace, the tingling feeling from his office returning to me.
I wish you were here, I type. I want you to wrap your arms around me, to hold me. Just hold me. Or maybe, if we start getting really excited, we could try other stuff…but I’m not sure I can go all the way. I want it so badly, but…
I delete the message. It’s a bad habit, perhaps, creating all these future selves – these confident versions of me – and deleting them before I have a chance to see how they’ll fare.
What are you doing this evening? I ask.
Arranging the budget for my gym.
You own a gym? I didn’t know that.
I imagine him nodding, that gentle yet somehow savage smirk on his lips, a combination unique to my man.
It’s an MMA gym. I’ve recently started a new series of classes. I’m looking into hiring more trainers.
Eli, I almost don’t want to say….
I’m aware this is a little like bait, putting that out there as a text. I could’ve just told him what I was going to say, but there’s also something to be said for this sensation of flirting – of him caring enough to ask.
Go on, Della. You don’t have to hide anything from me.
It’s just my brother, Hudson, and he was training to be a martial artist for years since he was a little kid. Then mom and mad and that whole mess happened, and he quit. I think he’d make a great trainer. I think he’d be worth interviewing, at least.
I hold my thumb over the send button, wondering if I’m pushing too much. But I know how much Hudson hates his job at the factory. He’s only working there because he can’t find another job in the current market.
This would be a dream for him.
Tell me if I’m out of line, I add, then quickly click send.
I’d love to interview him, Eli replies almost instantly.
Too late, I realize there could be a problem. What if Hudson starts working for Eli, loves it, and then something happens between Eli and me? It’ll become awkward for Hudson then… and he might not have his factory job to return to.
Pass him my number, Eli goes on.
It would mean a lot to him, I reply. But I’m wondering if we should wait first.
Wait for what? he asks.
To see if we’re the real thing, I type, then delete.
To see if you’re going to break my heart…
I delete that too.
To see what happens between you and me.
I send that one, then close my eyes, imagining a world where he replies and tells me we don’t need to wait.
He’s ready to take things to the next level right now. There’s no hesitation, not even a flutter of it, where we’re concerned.
Whatever happens, if he gets it, it won’t change anything for Hudson’s job. The only way I could see that happening is if one of us does something terrible to the other. And I’d die before I did that, Della, and I’d kill before I let that happen to you. I know that makes me sound like a lunatic, but it’s the truth.
He’s getting close to the type of claiming and hungry words I want him to aim at me so desperately.
What does this mean, if not that I belong to him as definitely as he belongs to me?
I don’t think it makes you sound like a lunatic. Or if it does, I don’t care. I want that so badly. I want to know you’ll be there, supporting me. And I’ll be there for you too.
The only thing we’re missing is forever.
I’m tempted to come over, he sends. I need to see you, to kiss you again.
I almost tell him yes but then I think of where it could lead. Even though he’s a virgin, too, he’s clearly more confident when it comes to that stuff.
It’s like our texting is a shield, a method of making this more manageable….
But I can’t hide behind it forever.
Next time, I promise myself, I’ll say yes.
Something deep within shivers as I type out my message, telling me I’m being silly. Or worse, self-destructive.
I want this man so badly it hurts, want to feel him slipping inside of me, to stare into his eyes as he snarls and his seed erupts into me.
Creating a life, a future, and all the love that comes along with it.