Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
While I’m burning and seething in my pink peacoat.
I take a step back from him in response, remaining silent.
When he understands that I’m not going to say anything, his mouth curls up in a small lopsided smile. “Well, it’s good to see you too.” Then, “You’re waiting for him, I presume.”
“Always,” I say, which I do get sounds a little childish.
But I think I’m allowed a little pettiness here.
Especially on behalf of Reign.
Lucas chuckles. “So everything’s going well, I take it.”
“Everything’s going great, yes.”
He nods, his eyes on me. “Fantastic. Although from what I hear, he’s leaving soon.”
“So?”
“So,” he shrugs, “you always loved NYU a little too much. That’s gotta throw a wrench in everything great.”
“You know, I think we’ll figure it out,” I tell him, my heart drumming with anger. “Because I’m coming to realize that when you love someone, you do all kinds of things for them. Things that you never thought you would. And happily too.”
And then it occurs to me.
That I’m right.
You do do things for people you care about, things that you never once thought you’d do. And that’s both the beauty and the curse of this thing called love. And while it has always been a curse because I’d never known where to draw the line, I think this time around it’s more of a beautiful thing.
I hate that this is only now occurring to me. And especially after talking to Lucas. But I’ll take the epiphany as it comes to me.
“And you know a lot about love,” he murmurs, his features both harsh and loose with something akin to nostalgia.
“I think so,” I say, nodding. “At least, now. He taught me.”
He did, didn’t he?
In the short time that we’ve been together, he’s taught me a lot about love and relationships and loyalty. And the crazy thing is that he’s the one who thought that he didn’t know anything about it. That he still doesn’t.
It’s okay though; I’m on a mission to make him believe.
At this, the door bursts open again, and he finally appears in a fresh dark t-shirt and gray sweatpants and only a hoodie; God knows how he manages to stay warm in that but he does. His own gym bag is slung across his chest, his hair all wet and messy. His reddish-brown eyes light up when he sees me, but then he notices Lucas and those pretty eyes of his begin to shine with a different light.
As I knew they would.
He hates it when a guy so much as looks at me wrong. And so I’m pretty sure talking to my ex falls under that category. Actually it would be a category of its own.
When he takes a threatening step toward Lucas, his stubbled jaw all tight, his eyes narrowed, I make my move. I go up to him and, winding my arms around his neck, I lift my face and give him a kiss.
He’s frozen at first, probably shocked at me attacking him like this. But then he gets with the program and winds his muscular and safe arms around me and kisses me back.
In fact, he kisses me better.
His arms squeezing around my body, plastering me to him, his tongue thrusting inside, taking and owning every inch of my parted mouth. And the kiss that I started mostly to distract him turns into something else.
Something more.
Which is always the case when it’s us.
We break apart, probably years later — or at least it feels like it — when some of his teammates cheer and clap and whistle around us. Blushing, I hide my face in his warm chest and he tells them to go fuck themselves. From the corner of my eye though I do see that Lucas is gone.
Good.
When he’s sent all his laughing friends away, he looks down at me. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Was he bothering you?” he asks, his eyes flicking back and forth between mine, slight anger still lingering in them.
“No.”
His chest moves on a tight breath. “Because if he was, I’d —”
“He wasn’t.”
“And you’re sure.”
“Yes, I am.” I kiss his jaw. “Besides, I didn’t just kiss you to distract you from beating him up and thereby ending your streak of four months, one week and four days of no fighting and no bruises.”
Which I’m hoping will turn to forever. The streak I mean.
Because I can’t even express how happy I am that his beautiful face and his magnificent body are bruise-free. That he doesn’t subject himself to the kind of pain he used to.
“So then what else?”
I bring my hand up to his face to cradle it. “To fulfill your fantasy.”
“What fantasy?”
“The one you had,” I lick my lips, “about making him watch.”
He gets it then.
And his eyes go intense. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” I whisper, smiling. “You told me once that if I was yours, you’d do everything to make everyone around you including him jealous, remember?”