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)
“Is that why you came out here?” he asks, breaking into my thoughts.
“I-I’m sorry?”
He waits a beat to answer, and I realize his grip on my bicep has gotten harder. So much so that it’s painful, and I can’t help but flinch. Although I don’t know if it’s from his fingers or his words. “Because you’re so happy for me.”
My heart starts pounds in my chest. “I—”
“Because I gotta tell you, you didn’t look so happy back there.”
“What?”
“In fact, you looked a little”—he pauses to take me in once again—“red. All flushed and breathless. Like all the air rushed out of your lungs. Like your heart wasn’t beating right. Or maybe beating too much.”
“I—”
“Like you’d been sucker-punched.”
I’m starting to feel the same again and I struggle in his grip. “I have to go. I have—”
His eyes, pitch black and penetrating, turn hard as he says, “You looked like you wanted to be the girl I kneeled for.”
I draw back then, my spine hitting the tree with a thud. “I didn’t.”
“No?”
I shake my head, trying to twist out of his grip. “No. I don’t. I’d never…”
He flicks his eyes over my face as he murmurs, his tone soft and low, as opposed to his harsh features and mean grip, “It’s always nice to meet a fan. Especially when they claim to admire us for our tenacity. When they wax poetic about our strength and how we overcame tragedy.”
I flinch. “I didn’t mean it that way. I—”
“Especially,” he cuts me off, his grip turning meaner, if possible, “when they’ve got no fucking idea what they’re talking about.”
“I—”
“And usually, I just let it go. I even sign autographs if they want me to. Or take a picture with them. Like my life is a fucking reality TV show, but as I said, I move on. But”—he clenches his jaw for a second, his eyes flashing—“for some mysterious, unknowable reason, I can’t move on from you.”
“M-me?”
He shakes his head, slowly. “No, not you.” Then, still studying my face, “And I’m wondering why that is. Actually, I’ve been wondering ever since Callie started to bring you around. What is it about you, what the fuck is it about you that bugs me so much.” He pauses, his eyes narrowed slightly before continuing, “And I think tonight, I finally realized why.”
“Why?” I ask even though I know I’m going to regret it.
I know it down to my bones. I know it more when he leans over me, his dark stare, his dark grip, all pulsing sharply. “It’s the way you watch me.”
“I don’t—”
“I know you do,” he speaks over my lie, making my heart pound in my chest. “I also know you try to hide it. But you’re not very good at it. In fact, you’re really fucking annoying with your little secret glances when you think no one is looking. But I am. I’m looking, and every time you stare at me with stars in your eyes, I want to punch something. Every time you go all breathless around me like you’re going to goddamn faint just because I’m close; like I’m going to one day look at you and realize you’re the girl for me and the longer I don’t, the sadder you become. I can’t stand it. I can’t fucking stand the way you look at me.
“I couldn’t fucking stand that that’s how you looked back there. Devastated and wrecked and fucking ruined, because I got down on one knee for someone else.” He pauses to move his jaw back and forth. Then, “And normally, I’d let you suffer. But you’re my little sister’s best friend and you could practically be my sister, so—”
“I’m not your sister,” I say.
Or rather, I snap. My voice is much louder than I thought it was going to be. Maybe it’s the force of all the secrets I’ve been keeping from him, from everyone. Maybe it’s the shame of it all.
Whatever it is, my loud voice pisses him off even more and his voice dips so low that it sends shivers down my spine. “No, you’re not. You’re fucking nothing. Which is why I need you to get over it. Whatever it is. Crush, obsession, sick fascination you have with me. Bury it and get a life. Get a fucking boyfriend and forget I exist. Because next time I catch you looking heartbroken because of me, I’ll let you walk on this broken glass and bleed all over it.”
Prologue III
Six Months Ago
It was my idea to meet at a bar.
It was also my idea that the bar be The Horny Bard. The most infamous hangout for all the soccer players in Bardstown. For my date.
Yes, I’m on a date.
The guy—Miles—thinks I’m twenty-four instead of twenty-one. And he himself is twenty-seven. I found him on a dating app. He has blond hair and pretty brown eyes, and I think his smile is great. He loves soccer like everyone else in this town, but I decided to forgive him for his mistake.