Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 97684 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97684 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
There's no line at our destination—the only straight club in town. We sail through the ID check. The bouncer even nods happy birthday to Daisy.
Inside, it's crowded. Loud. Packed with dancing people. It's too dark. I can't tell if this place is for tourists or locals. I guess it doesn't matter.
A warm body is a warm body.
A good song is a good song.
A fuck is a fuck.
Oliver motions to me. "Usual?"
I nod yeah.
Luna whispers her drink in his ear.
He nearly blushes. Fuck, he's so into her. Which is such a bad idea. But it's not like I can talk.
He takes Daisy straight to the bar.
Luna wraps her fingers around my wrist. Leads me to a booth in the corner.
It's not quiet, but it's a little more private.
She sits. Motions for me to sit. When I do, she leans close enough to whisper. "You want to get her alone?"
"Huh?"
"Tonight. I can distract Ollie."
"You call him Ollie?"
"Do you want it or not?"
I pull back so I can look her in the eyes.
Her expression is serious. Not upset. Just to the point. "You want to bone him?"
"No comment." Her laugh brightens her light eyes.
"Would you?"
"No." She looks to the bar. It's hard to see Daisy and Oliver through the crowd, but he's tall enough he stands out. "She's my best friend." Her gaze shifts to me. "You?"
"Same."
"Too bad."
I arch a brow.
"What? Am I supposed to care more about your friendship than my best friend?"
"You really—"
"You know that she likes you. You're obvious about it," she says. "And, well… I don't know why, but I trust you."
"You do?"
"With her." She nods. "She's been through a lot."
"I know."
Her brow furrows. "No… you don't. But that's not mine to tell." Her red lips press together. "Be careful with her."
"Of course."
"Really, Holden. I know you're normally with girls who get your whole player thing. I know how that works. I get it. But no matter what Daisy says, she won't. She's too into you. She'll tell you she understands, but… don't break her heart, okay?"
"I wouldn't."
Incredulity spreads over her expression. "I just…"
"Make sure he doesn't get too drunk, okay?"
She shoots me a really.
"If you're gonna hang out with him, you have to know—"
"I'm not an idiot." Her eyes fix on me. Examine me. Like she's looking for some deep truth about the situation. She must find it, because she relaxes. Turns to the bar. "He can hold his liquor."
"Normally."
"I'll make sure he gets home."
"Thanks." I offer my hand.
She looks at me funny, but she still shakes.
Oliver and Daisy cut through the crowd.
"You two conspiring?" Oliver asks.
"We are." She turns to Daisy. "On who gets to dance with you first." She offers her hand. "I called dibs."
Daisy smiles. Takes her best friend's hand. "After you."
"What about—" Oliver motions to her drink.
"Hold it for me." She hands him the cocktail.
He shakes his head what a waste. "She barely had a sip." He sits on the bench, next to me. "Fuck, this music is bad."
"It is." I take my Kentucky mule. Watch Luna lead Daisy into the crowd.
They get close, but only friend close.
Daisy shifts her hips. Throws her arms over her head. Loses herself in the music.
It's fucking beautiful.
It's fucking everything.
Chapter Nineteen
Daisy
The music booms with a steady bass. Thump. Thump. Thump.
At this point, I'm pretty damn good at finding the beat. I've always loved music. Loved letting it wash over me, letting the melody pluck my heartstrings, letting the bass sink into my bones.
I don't know anything about scales, half-steps, keys, rhythms. But I know feeling a song in my heart.
I know poring over lyrics, dissecting every ounce of meaning.
During inpatient treatment, music was one of the only things that stayed mine. There was no privacy. I shared a room, a room with a window in the door. I had to spill my thoughts in group therapy sessions.
I had to stare at my family during visiting hours, trying to hold my tongue. To keep the fuck you for putting me here to myself.
Even once I accepted it, that I needed to be there, I hated seeing them. Their eyes were so full of pity. They spoke with such hushed tones. Like they were afraid anything above a whisper would break me.
My eating disorder was the one thing that was mine.
And I lost that.
All I had was music.
Sure, I poured every thought into my journal. But I never trusted it to keep my secrets hidden. Someone could find it. Rip it away from me. Use it as evidence that I needed to stay locked away longer.
Music was different.
I lost my control. I felt it in my heart, my body, my soul.
It was the only thing I felt in my body.
Even now—
God, it feels so right, letting a song wash over me. Letting my hips find the beat. Letting my body tune into the rhythm.