Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
“Don’t sound so excited,” he said when I deadpanned my answer. “I wouldn’t want to think you’re interested in me.”
“If you think that, you’d be lying to yourself.”
“Would I be lying to myself, though?” He raised an eyebrow. I didn’t understand how he did it — I was numb one minute, and the next, my heart was beating out of control. He glanced over when we got to a red light. “One of these days, Lyla James.”
I looked out the window to hide the smile I felt forming. Not only did he make me feel; for a moment, he made me forget what broke me, to begin with. Just for a moment, but those moments added up. He also never quit flirting with me and trying to get me to cave, and for some really, really dumb reason, I loved it.
“I see your reflection, you know,” he said. I jolted and looked at him. He glanced away, two guys bouncing a basketball up the sidewalk catching his attention as he spoke, “What she said about your smile was my favorite part.”
Weird.“Why?”
“Because you don’t give it up freely.” He met my gaze. “But when you do, it’s fucking magical.”
I wondered if he said things like this to all the girls he was trying to sleep with. Something told me he didn’t have to say much to get them in his bed. I squeezed my hands on my lap and turned my attention to the bouncing basketball.
“Why’d you quit?” he asked again.
“Do you want the truth or what I tell everyone?” I asked, looking over at him.
He scowled. “The truth.”
“I can’t give it to you until the semester is officially over.”
He shot me a look. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. “What’s the story you tell everyone?”
“That I’m overwhelmed with grief.”
His brows hitched. “Are you?”
“I don’t feel anything at all,” I whispered.
I wanted to tack on: unless you’re around. I wouldn’t, but it was the absolute truth. I didn’t know what this feeling was, but it was better than nothing, and that terrified me.
CHAPTER 8
LYLA
“Let it be known that the only reason I’m going is that I love you,” I said as Marissa applied eyeshadow.
She stopped and pulled back to shoot me a look. “I know, and let it be known that I will be watching you like a hawk.”
“I’ll be on my best, happy-go-lucky behavior.” I winked. She laughed, shaking her head.
Marissa’s birthday had always been a day of dress-up of sorts. For years, she’d do my makeup and dress me up however she wanted. She would make the perfect show mom to one of those beauty pageant children. I’d missed her last two birthdays since I couldn’t get out of bed, let alone interact with people. Marissa, being the best friend that she was, attended both parties for an hour and then came over to mope with me. She was sad, too, of course. When my mother died, she also felt like she’d lost a mother. When Luke died. . .God. I tried not to even think about it too much. Every time I did, I felt like throwing up. That year was such a blur that sometimes I could pretend none of it had happened until I thought about calling Mom. Or Luke. Each time, a fresh wave of grief would hit me, realizing they were both gone forever. Then, it hit me that they were both gone forever.
This year, I wouldn’t think about that. I’d go to my best friend’s party and have fun. That was the only thing she’d asked me on her birthday. I didn’t fight her on it. Was I ecstatic? No, but I would try my best not to be a Debbie Downer, for her sake. Banks would be there with some of the football team, and Prescott would make me feel safer.
“All done,” Marissa said, grinning when she stepped back to look at me. “Holy shit, Lyles. You look so fucking hot.”
I stood up and walked to her full-length mirror. I wore wide-leg jeans and a flutter-sleeve smocked crop top that only covered my breasts and tied in the back. I loved the top. It was cute and sexy and normally something I would no longer wear in public. My baggy clothes made me feel safe, but it was bullshit. I shouldn’t have to cover myself up because some men did not understand what “no” means. I wouldn’t have thought twice about this outfit if I knew he wouldn’t see me in it. This was who I’d become because of him. I hated him for it, but I hated myself even more for giving him this power over me. It wasn’t like he’d be at the party, but the fear remained. I took a deep breath. Fuck him. It was Marissa’s night.
I gave myself another once-over. Marissa had styled my hair in beachy waves that reached around my elbows. She’d created a beautiful braid that looked like a crown on the back of my head but left the shorter strands of my hair loose in the front. It was a version of myself I hadn’t seen in a long time. That was a lie, though. I’d dress however I wanted when I was far away from here, but I’d never be the trusting, careless person I’d once been. I shook that away and focused on tonight. The jeans had rips at the knees, left thigh, and just beneath my right ass cheek. They were so long that I’d either wear heels or fold them to wear sneakers. Marissa chose comfortable block heels that weren’t too high. I tested them out by running into the living room and back. Yep, I could wear them.