Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
His finger is on my chest.
The stupid discomfort floods my lungs until I can’t breathe.
It hurts.
Not because of the bruises Dad gifted me, but due to the spark of electricity that races through me, then surges and heightens.
All of a sudden, it’s like an earthquake that crumbles all of my insides.
I instinctively push back, wincing, because the lack of contact stopped the electricity, but it didn’t stop the pain.
The fuck?
Vaughn visibly cringes, taking a step back and shoving a hand in his pocket.
He’s cringing at touching me?
Fire erupts at the bottom of my stomach, and I don’t understand why.
This asshole has always seen me as someone who’s beneath him. A freaking rock in his shoe.
He ignores me most of the time and calls me names when he doesn’t.
Irresponsible.
Chaotic
Unclean.
Imbecile.
Waste of space.
Those are a few of the colorful words he’s used to describe me. So this shouldn’t feel any different. He’s cringed at my actions more times than I can count, and I gave him the metaphorical middle finger as I repeated those actions just to spite him.
So why the fuck is it burning now?
“I…” He trails off and squeezes the bottle between his fingers so hard, I’m surprised it doesn’t burst.
He blows out a breath and shakes his head, as if he’s trying to kill whatever thoughts are swarming in his head.
“We have to go to the woods. I’ll meet you in half an hour.”
His words are final.
He doesn’t wait for a response, just sweeps past me and strides in the opposite direction.
And I can’t tear my eyes away from him.
From the way his legs carry him in long, confident steps to how his shirt clings to his back, sweat turning the fabric into a veil that reveals more than it hides.
His back muscles shift with his steps, slightly tight, rolling and coiling and looking so goddamn—
I slap myself.
My skin burns and the bruises throb, but I do it again, this time forcing myself to look away from Vaughn’s body.
Because I refuse to let whatever this is blossom.
Fuck that.
“Uh, what the fuck is that?” I point at Vaughn’s backpack as we trek up the mountain.
I know it was said that we wouldn’t have security, but that’s impossible. Vaughn and I are too important to leave unguarded.
Therefore, members of security are currently following us, and judging by the sound of rustling leaves, they gave up trying to be unnoticeable.
But they’re far enough away that it feels like it’s only Vaughn and me.
He’s kind of the last person I want to be with after, you know, the epic freak-out an hour ago.
But hey, maybe it’s also good so that I can confirm this is absolute nonsense.
My theory is, Dad hit me on the head earlier and I’m imagining things.
Yup. Makes complete sense. We’ll go with my brain’s genius of finding solutions.
“Necessities,” Vaughn says in answer to my question, keeping his gaze on the trees spilling out on either side of us ahead.
“Necessities? Jeez, why do you need necessities for gathering wood?”
“I need necessities for everything.”
“Why am I not surprised?” I tilt my head to the side. “We’ll have to bring the wood back, you know.”
“And?”
“And how will you do that with a backpack on?”
“I’ll wear it on the front.”
“Extra weight for no reason.”
“There’s always a reason for necessities when out in the wild. I’m well prepared for emergencies, unlike a certain someone who only has water.”
“This is all I need.” I shake the bottle in my hand. “I don’t even know what the hell you have in that bag of tricks of yours. Any necessities to fight bears?”
“We have guns.”
I roll my eyes, trying hard not to watch his muscles flexing beneath the shorts with every step he takes.
He’s wearing different shorts now. These are dark green and slightly shorter than the ones from earlier, because his thighs are more visible. Add the black shirt, and I feel like I’m fighting for my life not to ogle him.
“Did you seriously wear hiking shoes?” I ask in an attempt to distract myself.
“Yeah, since we’re in the mountains and all.”
“But we didn’t come here to hike.”
“Then what do you call this, genius?” He stares at me as if I’m the most stupid idiot he’s ever met. “You of all people should have them, considering your daily trips to the mountains.”
“Very funny. Humor so dry, I’m choking.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
“Good, because you’re the most boring person I’ve ever met. Humor’s not for you.”
He glares at me.
Which is curious because Vaughn doesn’t really glare. He usually has this completely uninterested look, so when he glares, you can tell the hate is at its peak.
And I kind of like it. The way his eyes hood, how that pulse in his neck throbs.
I want to see more of this.
“Bet you bore girls to tears.” I slam my shoulder against his jokingly.