Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 34760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
I want to hang onto that memory for as long as possible. When I'm alone in my own bed at night, I want to drag it back out and remind myself that, for one bright, shining moment, I knew what perfection felt like.
Am I being a coward, trying to get myself rescued before the aforementioned awkward conversation has to happen? Yes, absolutely. Am I willing to live with that? Also, absolutely.
I was a coward last night, too. He wanted to sleep with me, not get me off, but fuck me. And I just…panicked a little. Not because I didn't want to, but because I was freaking worried that if we actually went that far, I'd never be able to leave today. I was afraid I'd turn into a miserable facsimile of myself…one who probably burst into tears every time I heard him on the radio.
The funniest part? I think I might turn into her anyway. I haven't even left yet, and I already miss him. I already don't want to go. I already don't want to go back to the reality where he doesn't even know I exist, and the only things I know about him are what gossip sites print.
I should have slept with him.
"Too late now," I mutter, reluctantly turning away from the cabin to begin the long trek down to the main road. I stick to the very center of the path as much as possible, trying to avoid the worst of the mud from rain accumulating in tire tracks along the sides, but by the time I'm halfway there, the sun is up, my shoes are an earthy, muddy brown, and my feet are wet.
I make it all the way to the roadway before I stop, partly because I'm wheezing for breath, and partly because there is no tree blocking the way.
"What the fuck?" I turn, peering back down the path. There's no way I missed a tree blocking the path. There's one way in and out. I would have seen it, right? "Maybe it's actually on the main road?"
I step out from beneath the trees, peering as far down the road as I can see, but there's no downed tree blocking the way. There are plenty of leaves and smaller branches that have been blown all over the place, but there's nothing that even indicates a tree was down at any point last night.
I know I didn't imagine him saying he didn't even make it as far as the main road because of a downed tree. He didn't say it was on the main road or somewhere down the main road. I'm positive he said it was half a mile up the path before the main road.
"What the fuck? Did he lie to me?" I mumble, trying to wrap my mind around the possibility.
"Don't be mad."
A startled scream erupts from my lips before I can stop it. I spin around, my hand over my heart, to see Ash standing beneath the trees alongside the path, his hands in his pockets. His hair is a mess, a pillow crease across one cheek. He's wearing a Midnight Mayhem t-shirt, with mud splattered along the bottom of his sweats. Somehow, there's far less of it on him than there is on me.
"There's no tree."
"I can explain," he says, looking like a little boy who knows he's in trouble.
"You can explain," I repeat, crossing my arms. "There's no tree, Ash. How can you possibly explain that?"
"I lied."
I stare at him levelly, unsure if I'm pissed or not. Not entirely sure what's going on. "You lied?"
He nods, swallowing nervously. "For the first time last night, I felt…good. Normal. You didn't look at me like you wanted anything from me or expect anything from me. You didn't treat me like a celebrity or ask me a million questions. It was…nice," he murmurs, taking a step toward me. "It was really fucking nice, Loralei."
"So you lied about being stranded because I made you feel normal?" I blink at him, not entirely sure how we've gone from me being the neurotic person here to, well…this. "That's not rational, Ash."
"I know." He grimaces, taking another step toward me. "But as soon as it stopped raining, you were ready to go. I wanted you to stay, so I made up the tree."
And I'm back to thinking maybe this isn't reality. At least, it's no reality I'm familiar with. Because, in my world, rockstars don't lie just because they want to spend more time with me. Rockstars don't want to spend more time with me, period.
"Don't be mad," he says again. "I'll take you wherever you want to go if you want to leave. I just…" He stalks toward me, stark lines of anxiety painted across his face. "I wanted you to stay."
I'm not mad. Honestly, I think I feel…bad for him, maybe? How lonely is his life that he faked us being stranded just to spend time with a small-town librarian? A lot lonelier than mine, I think. And that's fucking sad. He's one of the most well-known men in the world…and he's happier in a damn cabin in the woods with me than he is living his fancy, fabulous life.