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)
We make a quick drive to the furniture store, and pick out a tan sectional for the living room. Emerson cringes at the price, but I don’t care. I simply pull out my card and swipe it. A couple of the guys that work their help load it into the truck and then we’re off to the grocery store. Since neither of us are all that good at cooking our list is short.
The entire time throughout the store, we walk hand in hand, and I can’t help but feel like people staring at us. It’s not like I haven’t held a girl’s hand before, but I guess I’ve never held it with the intention of something other than sex.
“I’m thinking maybe ten to fifteen frozen pizzas. We could always buy different toppings to give us some variety. Mushrooms, onions, peppers, you know.”
“Pizza sounds great… I like Hawaiian style.”
Gasping, I say, “Pineapple doesn’t go on pizza.” I act outraged, but inside, I’m overjoyed to see her come out of her shell. A few days ago, she was too timid to tell me what she likes to eat, or even talk but now she’s speaking up and I’ve never been happier to hear a woman talk in my life.
Emerson’s eyes light up and I swear she’s close to laughter. “Are you a pizza god or something?”
“He’s a god alright, but it ain’t of pizza sweetheart,” a familiar voice filled with flirt sounds behind me. Emerson’s smile fades and her grip on my hand tightens. Fire fills my belly as I swing around, coming face to face with Brad and Paul, two guys I’ve known since we played baseball together in middle school. Jocks, assholes, popular douche-bags. Like me…
“What’s up, Clark?” Paul greets me with a cocky grin. “Haven’t seen you in a hot minute.” His eyes darted away from me and roam over Emerson or what he can see of her since I’m shielding her with my body as best as I can.
“I’ve been busy,” I say, my voice clipped. I don’t feel like fucking talking to them right now. They’re assholes at their finest and that’s the last thing Emerson should have to deal with right now. I know classes are right around the corner and I can’t protect her from everything, but I can protect her from these two douches.
“I can see that.” Brad tilts his head, obviously gawking at Emerson. I grit my teeth and try and cool my heated blood. I have to keep myself in check so I don’t squeeze Emerson’s hand any tighter, because if I do, I might crush it.
“Quit looking at her,” I growl, like a fucking dog protecting his territory. Might as well piss on her leg, Clark. Brad and Paul exchange a look, their eyes bulging out of their sockets.
“Dude, since when do you date? Or care if we check out your girls?” Asshole Brad asks, and I kind of want to shove my fist down his throat.
My girls? Fuck. I can’t image what Emerson thinks of me right now.
“Since now, so stop fucking staring.”
Paul rolls his eyes, obviously thinking I’m being dramatic or some shit while Brad continues to gawk as if he’s watching a train wreck that he can look away from.
Douchebags.
A feeling I’ve never felt before in my life creeps up my spine, and at first, I can’t pinpoint then I catch Paul staring again too, and I know exactly what it is I’m feeling. Jealousy. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth and a burning rage in my veins. I stare daggers at both of the guys, both my supposed friends, teammates, willing them to get lost and not come back.
“Okaaaay,” Paul finally says, drawing the ‘a’ out for a few seconds. “Well, this was awkward…let us know when you’re done with your flavor of the week, and maybe we can swap or something.”
Motherfucking. Fuck. No way will I be able to look at Emerson after this. I used to think fucking an endless amount of women was fun, stacking ‘em up like cordwood, but now I’m sickened by the thought of it alone.
“See you around, I guess,” Brad adds and they both finally walk away, leaving me with an embarrassing mess.
Slowly I turn around, keeping my head low as I meet Emerson’s eyes. “I’m sorry, they are jerks.”
“You don’t have to apologize. You don’t owe me anything. I don’t care about your past, or your present. We’re friends, Clark, and friends don’t care who friends sleep with.” She tries her best to keep her voice even, but even I can hear the slight tremble in it.
I’m not sure if she is shaken from the conversation with the guys or if she is lying, and simply saying it to weaken the low blows those assholes took on me. Either way, the words sting a little more than I expected them too.