Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
And my stomach dropped.
“Yes?” I squeaked.
“What’s wrong with you, and why are you still sitting in the lot?”
I gritted my teeth, refusing to tell the man why I was sitting there.
My lips thinned, and I narrowed my eyes.
“I’m not waiting all day. Either you tell me, or I leave you here to deal with this shit all on your own.” His eyes narrowed on my backseat. “And what the fuck is all this shit in your car for? You really shouldn’t be driving around with this. It could get stolen.”
I looked up at the sagging headliner on the roof of my car, and wondered if there was a law about killing your ex-boyfriend when he provoked you on the first day of your period. Surely I could plead insanity as a temporary disorder, right?
Then I decided that it probably wouldn’t be allowed. I was too levelheaded, they wouldn’t believe that I’d done it in a fit of passion.
“I’m going to take that as a no,” he grumbled, then started to walk away.
I watched him go, my eyes on his ass, and wondered if I had it in me to tell him to come back.
I knew I didn’t have it, though.
I couldn’t ask for help from him.
I couldn’t even be in the same vicinity as him, hence the reason I was moving.
It was either leave or deal with having my heart ripped to shreds each time I saw him.
I tried the car again, then dropped my forehead to the steering wheel and listened to the rain hit the windshield.
My passenger side door was ripped open, and suddenly my entire car was filled with a man that was entirely way too large to be jam-packed into a seat that caused him to fold up like an accordion.
“You need a new starter.”
Jessie’s rumbled reply rippled through me, causing my heart to pound, and my stomach to summersault.
He’d always had this effect on me, though.
I thought back to the first time I saw him, and the way our eyes had met.
***
I jogged down the steps of the library, taking them two at a time, as I hurried in the direction of where my mother usually parked to wait for me to get done.
I volunteered at the public library twice a week, and I was late for my counselor’s appointment at the local college.
My mom would get me there, of course, but it’d be close.
Lucky for me, my mom drove like she was a player in Grand Theft Auto. She pulled up at the curb of the library five seconds later, pushed open the door and yelled for me to climb in.
I did, and we arrived with only two minutes to spare.
“Thanks, Mom,” I grinned as I pushed the door open to the van. “I’ll be roughly an hour and ten minutes, give or take. Don’t wait for me. I’m going to walk home.”
My mother nodded, waved and then took off once my feet hit the pavement.
I headed for the steps.
The moment my foot hit the first step, I went face forward, falling hard.
I knew instantly that my palm was skinned because blood was leaking down the length of my arm.
“Ouchhhh,” I whined, pushing up with my good hand to look over the wound.
“Here.”
I looked up into the melted chocolate eyes of the most beautiful guy I’d ever seen, and froze.
“Do you want this?” he asked again.
I finally tore my eyes away from his brown ones and looked down at where he was holding a paper napkin out to me.
“T-thank you,” I said, reaching for it. “I appreciate it.”
He shrugged and took a seat on the large brick accent wall that lined the front of the college.
“No problem,” he muttered, dismissing me.
I bit my lip and pressed my hand with the towel in it down onto the wound on my palm while trying not to be too obvious about watching him as I walked away.
An hour and twelve minutes later, I came back outside to find him still sitting in the same spot.
He was lying back on the grass, though, watching the clouds pass overhead.
I walked carefully down the steps, attempting not to appear as if I was watching him like a hawk, and I damn near managed it, too. That is until I got to the bottom step and missed it completely.
Luckily, this time I caught myself on the iron railing that ran up the middle of the steps, or I would’ve face planted again.
“What is it with you and steps?”
I bit my lip and looked over at the man.
“I’m gravity challenged,” I told him. “I don’t reserve this clumsiness just for steps. I’ll have you know that I can also trip on air.”
His eyes finally turned to mine.
“You’re cute.”
My face heated, and everything I was feeling in that moment ripped through my body and likely showed on my face.