Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“Yes?” I answer.
“Come and get me.”
I roll my eyes as I recognize the voice. The fucking nerve of him to call me after we broke up. He almost fucked my life up completely by distracting me so badly from school and work that my performance in both tanked. For the last few months, I’ve been trying my best to focus on the things that really matter.
“No, Dave. I’m not going to come and get you. I don’t even have a car. And I’m at work.”
???
She has no idea how beautiful she is right now, with her hair slightly mussed about her face, silken blonde strands having come loose even before the dinner rush. She brushes them away from her glasses, one of the strands getting stuck in the hinge where the arm meets the body. I notice every detail about this young woman. I drink her in as if she were a fine wine.
I can hear every word she says clear as a bell, though I am several feet away. I am unseen, a complete shadow in her world that is limited to the ring of light cast by the spider web-ridden bulb above the rear door of the restaurant.
Laura. The name is a reference to the laurel bush, a plant from which Roman emperors used to have wreaths fashioned. Her role in this world was cast from the moment that moniker was bestowed on her. The one who claims her will be the victor.
The weather is starting to cool, and it’s getting dark now. The shadows clothe me as I listen to her call on my laptop.
“Come and get me.”
I grit my jaw as I listen to the way the young man speaks to her. His voice is deep, but the words coming out of his mouth belong to the lips of a whiny man-child.
“No, Dave. I’m not going to come and get you. I don’t even have a car,” she says. Her voice sounds tense. I don’t like that. She shouldn’t be irritated by a man like this. She deserves better in so many ways.
I’ve been watching Laura for quite some time. She’s a very pretty young lady with a bright mind and a delicate demeanor that I find incredibly appealing. It’s not a physical quality. She is quite a generously proportioned young lady, but there is something about her that puts me in mind of a doe quivering in the sights of a hunter’s scope.
She is not the most situationally aware young woman, a fact that works to my advantage. I have been in the restaurant with her from time to time. Never in her section. I want to maintain some distance until the time is right.
I will never forget how she looked while working, how she put on a smile when she was taking orders, and how it faded slightly when she stepped away to put the orders in. It still lingered about her lips, a shade of an expression that does not reflect how she really feels.
Laura is afraid. Always. She walks around with a tinge of fear about her at all times. It is the kind of scent a predator cannot help but find appealing. There is perpetually blood in her water.
When she had a quiet moment, I watched her tuck herself into a corner and pull an old book out of the pocket of her apron. I got a glimpse of the cover.
It was an old romance novel. Dog-eared, well-thumbed through. She disappeared into it like it could save her. It endeared her to me in new ways.
We have had so little contact, she and I, but I feel like I already know the core of her. I will know more later on, of course. When we start to really get to know one another, I will discover even deeper layers. The thought makes me nearly salivate with anticipation.
Most of the customers pay little attention to her. She’s pretty, but not in a way that stands out too obviously in a college town. I wonder how they do not see what I see. I especially wonder how the lout on the phone dares to demand anything of her.
“I have to get back to work. We’re not even dating anymore, Dave,” she reminds him. “You have to stop calling me. We’re done.”
“We’re not done,” he says. My teeth slide against one another. My upper lip curls in something that starts as a sneer, but soon becomes a snarl. How dare he have any kind of claim over her.
“We are though,” she says, displaying that little streak of sass that doesn’t come out all that often. Laura works very hard to be polite even when the world is not being fair to her. I’ve seen her swallow her anger several times. She is doing it now.