Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 126589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Stung, Beth could do nothing but stare while he flung truth bomb after truth bomb at her. There was no cover to duck behind—not when he had so quickly, casually, and cruelly dismantled all her usual defenses. His stinging, brutally accurate assessment of the persona she had cultivated around him, stunned her.
She felt naked, vulnerable, and wholly exposed. Added to that, there was the debilitating knowledge that if she attempted to speak right now, her humiliation would be complete.
He’d stopped talking, his words had been hurled at her in a low, menacing voice—sharp, fast projectiles that had left gaping wounds on her soul…and now he loomed above her, breathing hard, looking shocked, and even a little bit regretful.
She swallowed past the hard, aching knot in her throat and nodded. A small, tight movement of her head. She lowered her head to stare at the limp hand—still clutching the barely eaten samoosa—in her lap, while she fought for some composure. She heard him sigh—the sound was deep and shaky—and she sensed the tension leaving his body. He stepped away from her, half-staggering as he mounted the other bar stool. Beth was grateful for that. For the space.
It felt like a reprieve.
She could hear him breathing—calmer, more evenly now—and she unconsciously paired her own breathing with his, until they were in synchrony.
It helped her focus, gave her the composure she needed to speak.
She lifted her gaze to find his eyes boring down into hers intently. She almost flinched beneath that piercing stare, but managed to control her reaction.
“I am sorry,” she said, and her words seemed to startle him. “About last night. I didn’t mean it the way you thought I did. It was a thing to say. To fill the silence. I-I don’t like silences. Thuh-they make me nervous. And I tend to say the exact wrong thing in an attempt to break it.”
She put the samoosa onto one of the empty side plates and dusted the crumbs off her hands before reaching for a napkin to wipe the oiliness from her fingers.
“Sometimes, you’re the easiest person in the world to talk to. The words just come and I feel like I can hold my own and be sharp and witty. A n-nemesis worthy of the name. Other times—” She tore her napkin into long, evenly sized strips, keeping her gaze on her task in an effort to avoid his eyes. “You’re like a thief. You steal away my thoughts, my composure…my words. And that’s the real reason I didn’t—don’t—like you. You make me feel insecure. And I’m back to the Buh-Beth who, once upon a time, couldn’t even say her own name. The girl who spent days, months, weeks…years in solitude and silence because it was better than speaking. Better than exposing herself to the cruelty and bullying that inevitably shadows a kid with a debilitating stutter.”
She placed her napkin strips on a neat little pile before daring to meet his eyes again. He wasn’t glowering anymore. Instead, his beautiful eyes were wide with shock, his face pale.
“You wanted to know a truth about me, r-right? One that could destroy me if you ever used it against me? N-now we’re even. I m-may be obnoxious, Gideon, but I’m not c-cruel, or malicious. You just bring out the absolute w-worst in me. And I lose integral parts of myself when I’m around you and I can’t…I c-can’t l-leave myself vulnerable like that.”
His eyes flared and a flash of denial spasmed across his face. He opened his mouth to speak but she shook her head, halting him.
“We’re really, really terrible for each other, Gideon,” she whispered. “We’re not the best versions of ourselves when we’re together, and…I don’t know about you but that’s not the kind of person I want to be. It was fun at first but, you’re right, it has become exhausting. And great sex can’t fix that. I think it’s best if we call a truce and avoid direct interaction unless absolutely necessary.”
“Beth.” He was whispering too. All the fury and fire was gone from his voice, leaving a despairing husk in their wake.
She slid off the chair, and smoothed her hopelessly wrinkled dress down over her thighs.
“We can be mature about this. We don’t have to like each other, but we love and respect our friends enough to amicably tolerate each other for short periods at a time, right?”
“Beth, please, I—”
“Goodbye, Gideon,” she said, interrupting him again. Not wanting to prolong this. Needing to get out here, and away from him, as quickly as possible.
She risked one last look at his miserable face before fleeing.
Chapter Ten
Gideon sneaked a peek at Beth, who was laughing at something Lucy had just said. It was the first time he’d seen her socially since their argument two weeks ago. Naturally he had seen her come and go at home, but he’d maintained his distance. She was right, they were bad for each other. Yet he wished that he could start over with her.