Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
"I think so." I took a sip of my margarita. "He barely ever looked at me anyway."
"I'm sure he'll be looking at you now." Marlee's eyes flicked down to my chest. I had been a late bloomer, but when I bloomed, I'd grown big. I usually tried to downplay my chest, but most guys still seemed to focus in on it almost immediately. "Wear something low-cut," she continued. "He's a player, isn't he? A real dog?"
I let out a long sigh and took another drink. "That's what I hear."
And then I started wondering; would Axel be attracted to me? When I thought about him, I still felt like an awkward little girl inside, even though for the past several years, I'd had no problem getting attention or dates. I went on a lot of dates, actually; unfortunately, none of them were ever very satisfying.
It occurred to me that if I played up my sex appeal, it would also aid my secret mission. Axel would never expect that his little stepsister had grown up and become so sexy.
Marlee and I moved on to different subjects, but in the back of my mind, I was flipping through my wardrobe, thinking about how far I could push the sexy and still look professional. On my way home, I thought about how I might act when I saw him and how he might respond. I thought about the order of questions I'd ask. I was interested in his thoughts about his racing career, but I knew most of our readers wanted details on his busy social life.
Just after closing my apartment door behind me, a call came in from Justin. Damn! I'd forgotten all about him. I set my bag down and accepted his call.
"Kayla?" He sounded both relieved and nervous.
"Hi, Justin. I'm sorry. I had a really busy day at work." That wasn't a complete lie.
"You got my text this morning?"
"Yes. Sorry." I wasn't ready for this conversation, and I struggled to find the next words.
"Are you free for dinner tomorrow?
I decided on the direct approach. "Justin, I don't think we should see each other anymore."
His end of the line went silent.
"It's not you. It's me." Ugh. I couldn't believe those lame words had just come out of my mouth, but they felt like they were true. "You are a great person, I just don't think I'm ready for anything serious right now."
The rest of the call was mercifully short. After we said goodbye, I thought about the explanation I'd given Justin. The truth was that I did want a serious relationship; I just didn't want to settle for someone who didn't give me butterflies. I didn't want to waste the time of someone who didn't occupy my every thought.
I had dated a few guys in college and several after, but I just hadn't found that spark. Was there something wrong with me? Was I even capable of feeling that elusive spark?
Later, as I lay in bed that night, I remembered being fifteen, lying under my fluffy pink comforter in my quiet bedroom and being acutely aware that Axel was lying on his bed, just on the other side of the wall. I'd definitely had that butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling back then. There were so many nights I fell asleep thinking about him.
While my friends had posters of Chad Michael Murray or Jesse McCartney on their walls, to me, Axel was the perfect guy. And just like my friends' idols, Axel was equally unattainable. He was older than me, in a different league socially, and, of course, he was my stepbrother. I knew it was wrong for me to have such an intense crush on him, but I couldn't help it, no matter how I tried to deny my feelings for him. In a small way, I'd been glad when our parents divorced, because sometimes it was pure torture living under the same roof as him, and wanting him so much. Sexual feelings had been new to me back then, and he was the boy populating all of my fantasies.
Ugh! I sat up and shook my head, hoping to clear away the memories. I couldn't sleep, so I figured I may as well do some more research and preparation for the interview. I didn't really need to research Axel's career. I'd been following it since the beginning. I'd even attended a couple of his races, but I'd never contacted him in all the years since our parents’ divorce.
Doing an Internet search on Axel yielded approximately twenty percent articles about racing and eighty percent stories about his love life. Actually, “love” probably wasn't the right word. He dated—a lot—but he didn't seem to stay with anyone long enough for love to develop. Looking at his dating history, I'd have to assume it was all about the conquest. He'd been seen out with models, actresses, and stunning women from other countries; really, it was a wonder that he had time for racing at all.