Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 152(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 152(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
“I don’t understand this,” Koen says, after a prolonged pause. “Most of the time, when people talk I want them to shut the fuck up. But every time you talk, I only discover more questions I want to ask.”
“Go ahead.” I flip my hair. “I know you want to ask me to make you a paper airplane.”
“I…” He trails off, growing visibly bewildered. “I do, actually.”
I waggle my eyebrows. “Got any paper?”
“This is the most ridiculous day of my life.”
“Thank you.”
He’s still studying me with semi-astonishment. “There’s some in my study. Wait here.” Koen begins striding in the opposite direction from which I came, toward a different dark, marble corridor, but he stops before the darkness swallows him. “You’re not to go in my study, Meg. Ever. Is that clear?”
Sensing now is not the time to make a joke, I nod. “Yes.”
He keeps me pinned with his glacial blue stare another moment, before vanishing down the hallway. A minute later he returns holding a single piece of paper between his thumb and index finger, handing it to me. As I’m wont to do, I immediately drop down onto his buff-shined floor in a cross-legged position and start folding the paper.
“There is such a thing as tables, you know.”
“This is faster. And I really have to go.” The room is silent, except for the gentle sound of paper being manipulated. “You know, if you ever needed a side hustle, you could play your violin at the train station. You’d make a killing.”
“Is that your way of telling me I’m good?”
“You’re better than good.” I slide my finger down a crease. “Maybe you should learn one or two happy songs, though. For side hustle purposes.”
“If I learn a happy song, will you come back here willingly?”
“Willingly?” I laugh.
A beat passes. “You’re coming back either way, Meg,” he informs me.
I pick up the finished paper airplane, holding it at different angles to study my handiwork, as if my nerves aren’t trapped in a constant tremor. Because, yeah, I believe this man has just threatened to kidnap me. And avoidance is how I plan to handle it?
Yup.
“Are you ready to witness her maiden voyage?” I ask, tremulously.
He hums, holding out a hand to help me to my feet. I place my hand in his grip, unable to breathe when he hauls me up, his head tilted to study my face when I’m at my full height. His gaze skates everywhere—over my mouth, the crown of my head, down to my throat. Did his eyes always glitter like that? Almost…madly?
“It’s better if I stand on a chair or something to get some height,” I say, wetting my parched lips. “Does this work?”
He nods briskly and follows, helping me onto a leather ottoman. “I suppose I should go stand on the other side of the room, so I can catch it?”
“Yes.”
Koen hesitates, his chest going up and down. “You’re not going to fall.”
“No.”
“Here’s hoping you’re better at balancing than you are at swimming.”
I wrinkle my nose at his retreating back. “You want me to come back here and visit you. Why would I do that when you continually insult me?”
When he reaches the other end of the living room and turns, I catch the barest peek at his expression. It’s regret. His mouth is moving, as if he might even be berating himself. “I’ll say something nice again to balance it out.”
I sniff casually, as if I’m not overcome with anticipation.
What is he going to say this time?
“I guess I’ll accept those terms.” I pinch the body of the paper airplane between my thumb and middle finger, holding it aloft and aiming, one eye squinted. And then I let it fly, crossing my fingers that it finds its mark. The plane cuts a path through the cool air of the living room, soaring beautifully straight, eating up the impressive distance while making a swish sound…and Koen catches the folded paper, just as my creation begins to dive.
“Okay, fine.” He dips his chin. “That’s a superior paper airplane.”
Pleased with his compliment, I hop down off the ottoman. “Did you play with them when you were a kid?”
His gaze remains locked on the floor a moment. “No, Meg. I didn’t play, period.”
I don’t know what compels me to cross the room and stand in front of Koen. He’s mean, insulting, bossy and has threatened to kidnap me (I think). But there’s a mournful note in his voice that strikes a chord in me and suddenly, I’m just there. I’m sliding my arms around his neck and holding him tightly, my cheek resting on the space between his pecs while his breath accelerates. Faster, faster.
As much as I’d like to believe I’m trying to get closer to him, so I can convince him to return to his job, I’d be lying to myself.