Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
I almost hate washing her off my skin. Driving home, she clung to me. I could smell her every time I moved. Whenever I did, I could clearly remember the weight of her head on my shoulder. The warmth of her limp, trusting body draped across mine. I can almost feel it now.
I’m more sure than ever of what I knew from the second my eyes opened. I’m going to need that again.
No surprise. That’s how it’s always been when it comes to her. Every new level we hit only unlocks a new level beyond it. What would it be like to wake up with her every morning? To fall into bed and go to sleep with her every night? Things felt surprisingly natural back at her house—too natural, almost. Like we have been doing this for a long time. I can see myself kissing her goodbye every morning. The thought makes me smile to myself as I finish rinsing off.
When was the last time I randomly smiled to myself? When was the last time I woke up next to a girl? That one’s easy: never. Not before today. You don’t spend the whole night with a prostitute. They tend to leave as soon as you’re finished your business.
There isn’t much that could spoil this morning. But of course, I can’t get away without being reminded of all the shit life has heaped on me, like the universe wants to smack me down.
Dad is on his way in as I’m on my way out. “There you are,” he almost shouts, grinning from ear to ear. From the looks of it, he could just be getting home now after spending the night out—he’s unshaven, bleary-eyed.
What a shame we don’t have the kind of relationship where I want to know where he’s been. I probably don’t want to know the answer.
The hand he claps on my shoulder squeezes hard. “Great work. I knew you would come through for me.”
My skin is crawling. Is there anything worse than receiving praise for something I have no right to be proud of?
“I don’t know why she thought she belonged there anyway,” he continues, giving my shoulder a shake. I’ve seen him act this way so many times, heaping praise on so many people. Does he mean it, or is it all for show, the way it usually is? “She’s nobody. She’s nothing. You made sure she remembered that, and I won’t forget it. You have what it takes.”
I guess some guys would feel proud, getting praise like that from their dad. Maybe they would feel like they deserve it. I don’t find it too easy to accept praise and gratitude over hurting someone who deserves it less than pretty much anybody else in the world. The thicker he lays it on, the more I feel myself shrink inside. He’s trying to pump me up, but he’s only making me feel smaller.
The best I can do is give him a tight smile and look for a way to end this. The obvious answer is the one I go with. “I’m running late. I’ve gotta go.” He doesn’t seem to mind and probably doesn’t care. He’s already thinking about something else.
So am I.
I just left her, but she’s the steel and I’m the magnet being drawn to it. All Dad did was remind me how I broke her down, and it’s only fair that I’m the one to build her back up. That has to be why there’s this nonstop need to see her, be with her, take care of her. It’s the least I can do.
I’ve been to her house so many times now, I could make the drive in my sleep. Lately that’s been a good thing, since I’ve been dragging my ass through exhaustion.
Last night was a different story. I don’t think I moved once all night, not even when Tamson rolled against me. I wish I had woken up. I wish I could have experienced the feel of her breath on my skin as she dreamed.
I’m starving, and not only for her. It’s the experience of being with somebody who isn’t getting paid to be there. I didn’t know it could be that simple and natural. Something as basic as talking in the dark before falling asleep together.
I don’t know who she’s turning me into. What I do know is, I’m not ready for it to end. Which is why I’m making this drive, hoping to catch her before she leaves for the day. I could watch her as she works, but that wouldn’t be the same as touching her.
And I doubt I could cross the threshold of the store without Frank seeing in the security feed. It would be ugly if he came out and accused me of beating him that day in the storage room. Or he might come out babbling about needing a little extra time before handing over a payment.