Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“But you can’t really move forward if you’re always doing the same thing.” I don’t want to mention he’s just coasting along and never really committing to anything, because his band is just a hobby and not a career and it really isn’t any of my business. But sometimes I want to point out the similarities between that and his failed relationships.
“And that’s why we’re trying new material.” He gives my hand a squeeze. “I’ll see you later.”
“Do we still have another date or is this it?”
I hope I didn’t sound desperate just then.
He just grins at me. “You better believe we have another date. Date number three, bumble bee.”
He turns and walks off, leaving me standing on the grass, bee suit in hand, sad to see him go but dangerously giddy at the fact that we have another date, another chance to pretend.
I’m not ready to think about what will happen when we can’t pretend anymore.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LAZ
“BUT NOT TONIGHT”
I wake up early for once, fueled by my dreams again. I wish I could remember them but it doesn’t matter. The feelings are there, this time brimming with dark sexuality and wild lust along with the usual despair and emotional turmoil.
I’m not surprised. I came three times last night just thinking about Marina. It’s not that I haven’t thought about her while jerking off before, because, believe me, she’s been the subject of more than a few fantasies of mine. But this time I didn’t have to imagine what it would be like to kiss her. This time I knew.
I still can’t believe I did that. Ever since our first date, it’s all I could think about, ever since it was put out on the table like an actual possibility. I’ve tried to push it all behind me and focus on other things but it keeps being pulled to the forefront.
Marina.
Her eyes, her skin, her lips.
Her fucking soul, that pure light that comes from within her, shines through all the darkness that shrouds her. I feel like I’m one step closer to possessing it, something I never knew I needed. It’s dramatic but everything inside me feels dramatic right now, larger than life and overpowering.
I don’t know where the lines started to blur. Maybe it was last week. Maybe they’ve always been blurring and I’ve had my head too far up my arse to notice.
But yesterday, yesterday that line was crossed.
Just one toe over it.
But it was crossed.
She tastes like everything I thought she would. Like honey but surprisingly richer, like her sweetness comes from someplace deep. I honestly thought I could drown in it.
And the way she kissed me back...
I didn’t know what to expect, if she’d shove me off of her or tell me to stop. I had hoped she wouldn’t but I couldn’t be sure. I can never be sure with her.
But the breathless little sounds she made told me I wasn’t the only one who was lost to that kiss.
I take in a deep breath, my pen shaking in my hand, and stare down at the last thing I’ve written.
I’ve hungered for too long
For that one drop of honey
That has hung from that lonely branch
Waiting to fall
Onto my tongue
Into my mouth
Coating my throat
Until I can’t breathe anymore
But it’s okay
Because death tastes sweeter
Than the world without you
I cock my brow and read it over. Romantic, I guess. Definitely morbid. It will do for now.
With the writing coming to a close, the muse having left with the last tendrils of sleep, I get up and start making myself breakfast.
Scooby is beating me to it, at the stove and making French toast.
“Morning, mon frère,” Scooby says to me, flipping the toast over in the pan. “Care for some French toast?”
“Bien sur,” I tell him, grabbing a cup of coffee and sitting down at the kitchen table.
“I didn’t know you spoke French,” he says.
“Just a little,” I tell him. “When I went to university in Berlin I picked up some German too.”
“You really are a man of the world aren’t you?”
I shrug. “I wouldn’t go that far. I live here, after all.”
“Yeah but LA is like the world of America.”
“I think New York is the world of America.”
“Did you know that LA is built on top of the third largest oil field in the country?” he says to me. “In the twenties, it produced a quarter of the world’s oil.”
I grin against the rim of the coffee mug. “I fear what would happen if you and Marina ever sat down and had a real conversation with each other.”
“You think we would be a good match, huh?” he asks, glancing at me over his shoulder with a twinkle in his bug eyes.
“Only in the fact that you both love your stupid facts.”
“Well sign me up, mon frère. She into short guys who ride bikes?”