Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
How I want his arms around me to tell me things are going to be okay. Between us. That everything isn’t so bad and the world will move on from that stupid video. Gosh, how am I supposed to face my family now? How am I supposed to face all my stepbrothers and Callie and Tempest and oh my God, Snow. My little sister, my baby, my everything and…
Just then I feel something in the back of my neck, and I come to a halt.
I haven’t felt that ever since I got here three days ago. While I’ve felt people looking at me on occasion, I knew they weren’t though. And it was only because of that leaked video and the article that I felt that way. No one in this city cares about a redhead walking down the street with her head bent and tears streaming down her cheeks. In fact, they go out of the way to not look and keep their distance.
So this is new. This feeling is new but also so familiar and I spin around to look.
As always, I don’t have to look hard or even far. I find him right away. I find him standing only a few feet behind me. Or more like, coming to a halt mid-step. Much like I did only a couple of seconds ago.
For a few seconds, all I can do is stare at him, take him in, trying to think if this is real. If he really is standing on a sidewalk in New York City as people walk past us, looking at me like I’m his dream come true. Like he’s been searching for me for years and he’s so tired now. There are pits under his eyes and his face has lost all its color. His features have honed into sharp, weary points and his eyes are red-rimmed.
But here I am finally so he can breathe. I know that because he does. His chest moves with a large, large breath that moves through his entire body. It hollows out his abs. It makes him shift on his feet. It parts his lips even. It even makes his arms flex including the flowers he’s holding in his hand, purple roses.
I see the bouquet tremor in his hand, and I realize not only is he real but he’s here to apologize. For leaving me in my room that night. He’s finally realized that I meant what I said; I wouldn’t be waiting for him when he came back. And he’s brought me flowers.
It makes me so angry, so…furious that I do the only thing that makes sense. I run. I wheel around on my heels and I start pumping my legs. And of course, he starts chasing me because that’s who he is. Because he thinks he can come here, throw his stupid flowers at me, tell me he’s sorry and everything will go back to normal. We’ll go back to our volatile, toxic, beautiful non-relationship where he never ever admits to his feelings and keeps lying to himself and me.
No, thank you. I’m not doing that. I’m never ever doing that.
So I run as fast as I can but even I know, there’s no outrunning him. He’s a wrecking ball both on and off the field, and he won’t let anything stand in his way if he wants to get to me. A few seconds later, I’m proven right when I feel his fingers wrapping around my bicep. Before I’m not only being stopped in my tracks but tugged back to crash against his hard body. And then as always, he maneuvers me however he wants me by snaking an arm around my waist and hauling me up and off the ground.
This time though I have enough wherewithal to scream. This is New York City. People are actually walking up and down the street. And as much as they don’t care about someone crying by them on the subway, someone will come to my rescue. And you know what, maybe someone will call 911 too. So he gets arrested for literally lifting me off the sidewalk in broad daylight. Or muted evening light. His career be damned. Everything about him be damned.
But he’s faster than me. Just as soon as I open my mouth, he covers it with his hand, and shuts me up. I get a lungful of the sweet scent of roses as he carries me to a dark alley between two buildings with me struggling in his hold, kicking my feet, trying to get free. I don’t though. Not until we reach the far end of the alley, away from the commotion of the street, behind a fire escape. He puts me down and spins me around, crowding me against the brick wall.
“What the fuck, asshole,” I practically scream in his face, pushing at his chest. “Let me go.”