Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
I kiss the top of her head, then close my eyes, breathing in her scent as I savor her warmth, her closeness. A jagged jolt of panic spears into me when I think about losing Samantha or anybody hurting her. She was right when she said it’s good I didn’t kill the bastard shooting at her. Honestly, I wish I had, and not with a gun. I wish I’d beaten the motherfucker to death for ever daring to threaten my woman.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Samantha
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lexi asks, looking at me across the cafeteria table.
There’s noise all around us: people talking, shouting, laughing, the clatter of cutlery and kitchenware. I have to keep reminding myself that the noises aren’t a gun, a bomb, or shattering glass.
She gestures at my face when I don’t reply. “That looks painful.”
She’s talking about the shallow red marks on my face from where the glass erupted against me. The small, stinging points feel so petty compared to everything else. I hardly even feel the pain. Compared to what could’ve happened, I’m so lucky.
“It’s my fault for not looking where I’m going.”
My cover story is that I tripped and grazed my face against gravel yesterday. I’ve never lied to Lexi, so she has no reason to disbelieve me. Even if I told her the truth, she’d probably think I was lying anyway. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I was running for my life in the woods. Heck, it hardly seems real to me.
“You seem pretty low, too,” she comments. “Are things going okay with you and you know who?”
Despite the uncertainty, I start smiling like a dork. “The date went well,” I tell her, which is half true. Before Charles Malone’s phone call, it was going better than I could’ve expected. “He started calling me his girlfriend.” When Lexi frowns, I say, “What? What’s up?”
“Have you… you know, yet?”
I shake my head. I didn’t tell Lexi how close we came or about the feeling of the nerves trying to close me up, shut me down, and kill my lust before it had a chance to consume me. “No.”
“Just be careful,” Lexi says. “Trust me. I know guys better than you. A lot of them will say anything to get a woman into bed.”
“He’s not like that,” I tell her. “We’ve got something real.”
“It’s still early days yet.”
She sounds like Mom, and I know they both only want the best for me. I can’t argue too much. Still, there’s this desire in me to scream at her that she has no freaking clue what she’s talking about.
Lexi is about to speak, but then she narrows her eyes, closes her mouth, and looks over my shoulder. I turn to find a barbershop quartet walking through the cafeteria, dressed in the classic hats and matching shirt combo.
“I wonder who it’s for,” Lexi murmurs as they look around the cafeteria. Then, oh my God, no… They walk directly toward our table.
I swallow, praying it’s for Lexi. I don’t understand why Fletcher would do this. I know we’re calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend, but surely he knows me enough to understand how nervous this would make me. Or maybe that’s the point. We don’t know each other. Perhaps he thinks it’s going to cheer me up.
They stop next to the table, four men of similar height. One is already tapping his foot.
“Samantha Fitzgerald?” the man at the front of the group says.
I swallow and nod. The whole cafeteria has gone quiet. People are aiming their cell phones over here. I’ve been the quiet one in college for so long, able to slink through the hallways, focused on the color and the light, and not drawing attention to myself. What if Mom sees one of these videos? What if James does?
The men start tapping their feet and humming. Then it hits me. I’m so freaking slow sometimes. It’s the flowers situation all over again when I assumed Fletcher had sent them, but no, I get it now. This is him, isn’t it? James?
Three men hum and snap their fingers as the lead man sings.
“Samantha, your not-so-secret love just wanted to say… He’d take you on a date, a trip, an adventure any day. James wants to shower you in hugs and kisses…”
One of the background singers steps forward with a big grin on his face, waggling his eyebrows at me. They’re very good at keeping their composure. I’m sure they’re used to the person they’re serenading, smiling at least. “He’ll be the mister… you be the misses…”
“And your love,” the first man picks up. “Will fly like a dove. Will—”
He cuts off when I stand up. I can’t take it anymore—the singing, the staring, the phones aimed at me. The fact that my boyfriend’s son is doing this is so messed up that I can’t take it.