Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“We could go to Ohio, and you could make things right with my dad, and then you could just come back here,” she suggests, but her tone is heavy. “To your home… where you live. The whole thing probably wouldn’t take more than a day once we get there. I could be in your presence as little as possible.”
“Ohio is five hundred miles away,” I point out.
She frowns. “Can we make it? Technically, it’s drivable in a day.”
“One day.”
“That’s really all we’d have to endure.” She sighs, her shoulders sagging. “Or have left.”
My stomach churns as my chest caves in on itself, jamming my ribs together. “Just one day.”
“And whatever time we have until this storm lets up.”
“I shouldn’t want it to keep raining,” I murmur.
“Me neither.” She makes an effort at a small laugh, but it comes out forced and sad. “Didn’t I just say I hate storms? Maybe that’s a new kink too. Earlier, I thought you could pretty much spit in my face, and I’d be down for it.”
I don’t know if this chair is wobbly or if my nearly falling out of it is just… me. “I could spit on your face?” There’s no way I heard that right.
“If it were you doing it, I’d be weirdly into it.”
I did hear that right.
“We probably shouldn’t talk about it. I’m already getting turned on,” she says.
“We should have ground rules to help ourselves stay away from each other.”
“I don’t regret kissing you,” she blurts. She still hasn’t turned around. She keeps scrubbing whatever she’s been trying to clean for the past five minutes. “I regret the circumstances.”
“Knowing I’m-”
She cuts me off with a soft laugh. “Yes, the age gap is obvious. I knew about it before.” We’re both thinking the same thing, but she says it, and without an ounce of the shame that I feel growing in my belly like thorn-encrusted vines. “It’s harder for you because you didn’t know any of that, including the fact that I’m my dad’s daughter, but my mind remains unchanged. I’m also my own person, and as much as I love my family, I refuse to let that be the sole thing that defines me. I find you exceptionally attractive, and I’d like to do level ten filthy things with you.”
“What is level ten?” Did I just ask that out loud? Yeah, I did. “No. I’m sorry. Please don’t go there.” Thank twenty-eight-inch pizzas, she’s looking out of the window and not at my extremely red face.
She fans herself, sending soap suds flinging all over the place. “I should probably just step outside and cool off.”
“You shouldn’t,” I tell her.
“You’re right. It’s an incredible turn-on for me to think about you soaking wet, so I can see how it would be for you too. Maybe we shouldn’t fight it. Repression just leads to desperation.”
The burning in my gut only gets worse. What did I come here to do? To tell Dulcie that I wanted to make amends and go to Ohio, yes, but I never meant to end up here with a feeling so strong brewing inside of me that it’s overpowering reason.
Didn’t you mean to end up exactly here?
I can honestly say no. I didn’t mean to. But I wasn’t going to tell her that I regretted the kiss either, because that would be a lie.
I’m going to be reduced to a pile of ashes at this very table as I’m trembling so badly and burning up with… whatever this is. Every single beat of my heart pounds out a chorus in my head. Would it be the worst thing to let someone in? You disappointed people. People have disappointed you. It doesn’t mean you aren’t capable of being trusted or offering trust again. You won’t turn to ash. You might just find the most beautiful, astounding world waiting for you if you’d just step into it again. Besides, a pile of ash would freak Dulcie out and probably blow all over this pizza, and then massive pizzas would be ruined for her for life.
“I thought we couldn’t just bang it out, but we could. We could fuck each other out of our systems, knowing full well it won’t last, and then go our separate ways. The chances of us ever seeing each other again are slim.”
I stand up so fast that the chair catches and stops, tossing me out the side. I stumble but grab the pizza box, nearly tugging it onto the floor. My heart revs like a jet engine, but do I offer a protest of any sort? No. That would be too convenient. My brain likes to punish me. “Because I’m a recluse who doesn’t do things like leave the house.”
“And I’m halfway across the country.” She doesn’t turn fully, but she does give me a good side eye. Not a stink eye or a sidelong side eye. Just a stare from the side. She’s watching me carefully, trying not to give anything away.