Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
I fidget with my thumbs nervously as I wait for Dean to look at me. I feel awful. “I should have just been quiet,” I tell him, and my voice cracks a little.
“You’re fine,” he says and lifts the turn signal lever, the ticks echoing in the hollow cabin of the car.
“What I said wasn’t, though,” I say. “I’m sorry, truly.”
Dean softens. He’s been tense and stiff ever since we left. My words have been caught in the back of my throat. It’s weird feeling this overwhelming urge to be forgiven. I’m not used to it. At least not like this.
“I told you she’s a bitch,” he says as he straightens out the wheel and leans back, setting his hand on my thigh in that same spot as before. Moving his thumb in the way I like. I’m getting used to him doing that and even more, I’m growing to love the little touches. I cover his hand with mine and peek up at him.
“Next time, I’ll be quiet.”
He turns to look at me with a pinched expression. “There’s not going to be a next time.” My stomach sinks and I can’t breathe until he adds, “I’m not going back there again.”
“Well, if there’s ever any other thing …” I stumble over my words. “I won’t—”
“I like that you stood up for me,” Dean says, cutting me off.
“You like it, so you forgive me? Or you like it—”
“I like the way you handled yourself. I’m not mad at all. There’s nothing to forgive.”
“So we’re okay?” I ask him desperately, my heart hurting more than it should and it’s only just now that I realize what I really feel for Dean. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Wiping under my eyes I close them and lean my head back against the seat, attempting to calm down.
Dean lets out a humorous breath which gets my attention, with a light in his eyes that eases me. “You’re sweet, Allie Cat,” he tells me and then gives me a soft smile.
“Where are we going?” I ask, finally relaxing back into the seat and sitting cross-legged. Again, pretending this is okay. He tries to take his hand away, but I put it right back on my thigh and he lets me. Right now I need him to keep from falling apart. I can figure out the rest tomorrow.
“The hotel around the corner has good room service,” he says. “Or at least it used to.”
“I like room service.”
“And then you can tell me something to take my mind off the fact that I’m fucking stupid for coming down here at all.”
“Why did you?” I ask him.
“Because my shrink said I should.”
“Why?”
“My guess would be, so we could talk about our issues.”
I let that sink in for a moment before I ask him, “Do you want to talk about them?”
He hesitates and takes his hand back, but only to steer into a parking lot. It’s not until he puts the car in park and turns it off before he answers. “Sometimes I think I do.” With the hum of the engine and the stereo off, it’s quiet. Too quiet.
“I’m here if you want to talk,” I offer him although my stomach twists and that unsettled feeling comes back to me.
“I’d like to talk about something else,” he says.
“About what?” I ask him, straightening my shoulders and preparing myself to talk about whatever he wants.
“I don’t know,” he says and I let out a small laugh. “How about your major?”
“Undecided.”
“No shit? Me too.” He gives me a handsome grin that settles those nerves and I reply, “Great minds, huh?”
“My lack of direction and commitment in choosing a major is one of the reasons Dr. Robinson said I should talk to my mother.” He keeps tapping his thumb on the wheel and I’m not sure why he’s so nervous.
He looks out the front windshield and toward the street as he talks. “Shit, I don’t want to talk about that.”
“You have no direction or commitment? Oh God, I really should hightail it out of here,” I joke to lighten up the mood.
He chuckles, that deep, rough chuckle I love to hear and grabs my hand, pulling it to his lips. I love his smiles but I hate that he’s only doing this to make me feel better. If I weren’t here, he wouldn’t be smiling. I know that much. “I like you, Allie,” he says softly and then adds, “I’m sorry I brought you and you had to see that.”
In this moment, I’m drowning. I’m in over my head and the weight of everything pushes against my chest, forcing me farther down into an abyss that’s sure to consume me.
But I want it to. Go ahead, swallow me whole.
When I look into Dean’s eyes and see the emotion that stares back at me, I see myself and it hurts. It’s a sweet, deep pain that I want to take from him. If that means drowning, so be it.