Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
No, he was the right one, whispers my brain.
Despite the fact that he came in his pants. At the table.
What is wrong with me?
Dierdre is still slack jawed. “Only you, July. I swear, you’re too green for your own good. Why didn’t you get up when you realized it was the wrong dude?”
“He was…it was…” I swallow hard. “I can’t really explain it. We started talking and I found out he recently returned from overseas. I guess you had to be there,” I finish lamely.
“Are you going to go on another date with him?”
“No,” I scoff, my heart sinking at the thought of never seeing the intense former POW again. “No. I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“He’d have to track me down. I didn’t even give him my number.”
I had to run out of the café before I had a public orgasm, too.
Who would believe me?
Eyes narrowed, Dierdre slowly takes out her phone. “I’ll explain to Kevin what happened and see if I can set up another date.”
“No.” I stay her hand, before I know what I’m doing. “I think I’ll pass.”
“Do you think you can do better?” she laughs a little to herself. “Or do you just like this soldier?”
Painfully aware that I’m blushing to the roots of my hair, I skirt past Dierdre to get to my desk. “Sorry, I have to work,” I mutter.
And a soldier to try and get out of my head. He stirred up something inside of me. Something needy and sexual. Against my better judgment, he left me wanting to know more about him, the source of his pain. But that doesn’t change the fact that climaxing in public is a giant red flag. I’m a safe girl. I pay attention to warnings.
Right?
Yes.
I need to pay attention to this one.
CHAPTER
THREE
Theo
It wasn’t hard to find July Newsom.
I simply asked Kevin for the full name of the girl who he was supposed to meet for a date. At first, he didn’t want to give me the information, but we came to terms. Quickly. He walked away with minimal damage and honestly, he probably would have given up July’s name and workplace without the right cross to his jaw, but I didn’t want to let the opportunity pass to give him a warning.
Stay the fuck away from July. Or you’re a dead man.
Now, I’m across the street from her office building, waiting for her to leave for the day. She’s in advertising, working for Donner Advertising. Attended the University of Chicago. Studied abroad one semester in Florence. Not a party girl. Her social media feeds are mainly comprised of pictures of her parents, book recommendations and affirmations. She likes going to the symphony and goes alone, most of the time. There’s one video of her being brought to tears by a crescendo and I can’t stop watching it. Can’t stop listening to her little gulping sob, the shudder of contentment that follows.
She is breathtaking.
It has been hours since I saw her and I’m going through withdrawals, like an addict being denied a hit. I’m in the shadows, arms crossed. Waiting and—
There she is.
Right there.
Fumbling with her umbrella on her way down the sidewalk, her heavy purse slipping down to her elbow while she tries to get it engaged. She finally does, holding the basic black umbrella overhead and sailing toward Union Station. I walk faster, catching up to her when she dips inside, once again tangling with her umbrella to get it back down, her nose wrinkled in irritation. Her white sweater is wet, I can see the outline of her bra straps as I trail her through the overcrowded station, rush hour commuters zigzagging paths in between us and this would unnerve me most of the time. All this action. All this chaos.
But I’m too determined to keep pace with July to pay any heed to my nerves.
I’ll be much worse off than a panic attack if I lose her.
She stops on a platform, just as the train rolls in and—using a different entrance, I slip onto the same train as her. It’s an express train, meaning it won’t be making a stop for a while and that’s good. I need her to hear me, before she’s given the option to run.
Again.
The train begins to move, the motion rocking everyone gently on their feet. It’s so packed, I have to weave through bored-looking straphangers in July’s direction—and I know the exact moment she becomes aware of me. She touches the back of her neck, as if I’ve pressed an invisible kiss there, looks up from her phone, head turning in every direction, a little trench between her brows. When she spots me coming toward her through the sea of commuters, her brown eyes widen.
But she doesn’t run.
She stays silent in the hum and sizzle of the train, letting me come closer, the blush building on her cheeks, neck. Goddamn, what a beautiful sight. The way she pushes up her glasses with her index finger makes me feel protective. So much so that tendons pull taut in my chest, my arms, the urge to growl making my throat feel strained. I’ve been a lost wanderer since coming home, but I’m filled with purpose now. And that purpose is July.