Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
My jaw tightens and I will myself to calm down. I’m close to saying something… and then she opens her mouth and says, “Are you trying to get something from me? Is this some kind of game? Did my father put you up to this? I… I won’t have sex with you, Clark. I’m not like that.” I take a step back feeling as if she’s slapped me in the face.
That’s what she thinks? She thinks that I’m trying to fuck her, that I’m being nice to her so I can get in her pants? I could be a cruel asshole right now and tell her I wouldn’t have to try this hard for pussy, but I won’t. I couldn’t say something that assholish, to her and be able to look at myself the next day. Still, I need to make sure she knows that it’s not like this.
“You have no idea how ironic this whole situation is,” I tell her, unable to hide my grin.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she eyes me warily. “Is this funny to you?”
“No, not at all. It’s just that it’s the opposite of what you’re thinking. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, or maybe you would… but you’re literally the first girl I’ve ever come into contact with that I haven’t tried to have sex with.”
Her face falls and I realize that, that probably wasn’t the best thing to say either.
Well, shit. What is the right thing to say here? I’m so far out of my element here, I might as well be in outer space.
“Okay, maybe that came out wrong.” Even though it’s true. “This isn’t a game for me. I’m not trying to get laid or to get you to have sex with me or do anything else that you don’t want. All I want is to help you… that’s it.”
“But why?” she asks, her tone curious. For a moment, I think about lying to her, or at least not telling her the whole truth. I’ve never told anyone how I really feel, what I really think about how my mom died. But as I look deep into Emerson’s big blue eyes, I’m reminded of the enormous amount of trust she has placed in me. How can I not return that trust? I need to tell her the truth, even if it hurts like hell talking about it.
“My mom died when I was twelve,” I start explaining. “She was dealing with anxiety and depression. She was suffering quietly and alone, until one day she wasn’t anymore. She killed herself.”
Emerson unfolds her arms and lets them fall back down to her sides, a deep frown forming on her pink lips, well her eyes mist with remorse, “I’m sorry, Clark.”
“I couldn't help her, but I think I can help you. If you let me,” I offer. “I’m not asking for anything in return from you.”
And I’m not. I wouldn’t. This isn’t about sex, or even doing as my father asked me to. This is about me wanting to help someone that needs it, deserves it.
“I’m scared, Clark,” she whispers, the sound almost inaudible.
“You don’t have to be scared of me, not ever,” I assure her, my hand clenching into a tight fist to stop myself from reaching out to her.
“It’s not that. I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of needing you…and then losing you.”
She barely gets the words past her lips before I’m grabbing her and pulling her into my chest. I throw my arms around her, holding her to me tightly and this time she doesn’t even flinch. Her small arms snake around my waist hugging me back. Tethering us together.
“You won’t lose me. I promise,” I say the words without thought. I’m not sure what the future holds but I’ll do everything in my power to be there for her, not only in memory of my mother but because I want to be because I need to be.
“This is crazy, we hardly know each other. How can you promise me that you will always be there?”
I shrug. “I just know. I don’t know how, I can’t even begin to explain it, but I know. Deep down, I know I’ll always be here,” I say into her floral-scented, sunset red hair. I hold onto her a few more moments before reluctantly releasing her.
“Now, why don’t we go to the furniture store and replace that ugly ass thing in the living room that calls itself a couch?”
“I wasn’t going to say anything about the couch, but since you brought it up. It is kind of ugly,” she snickers and a smile spreads across her face. It’s the biggest smile I’ve seen her give before, and I seriously have to stop myself from pulling out my phone and snapping a picture, just so I can keep this moment fresh in mind forever.