Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
I knew in that moment I’d do anything for Tristan. I’d die for him if I had to.
I just had to make sure it never came to that.
28
TRISTAN HALL
The crowd slowly filtered into the Fox Theatre—Atlanta’s crown jewel for the arts. We sat in the plush velvet red seats, close to the front and toward the center. Gabriel sat on my left, right next to the aisle, while my friends sat in a row to my right. The expansive theatre, with its intricate Moorish architecture and opulent gold accents, had seen its fair share of stories over the years, which made sense for it to host an impromptu book club night. This had been a last-minute decision after Jess got the news from one of her good friends: we had been given Hamilton tickets. Apparently, she had been dating one of the producers and brought up the Reading Under the Rainbow book club after a particularly relaxed moment.
It worked. She secured us tickets for one of the last nights the show would be playing in Atlanta, a practically once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that none of us wanted to pass up.
We’d meet to discuss the book later in the week. Which was great, considering I still had to finish reading it. Things felt way too close to home, so I decided to defang the text a bit by hopping on to Google and reading an entire beat-by-beat synopsis of the book.
Turned out Tia was right. The killer was actually the main character. He had taken the victim (whom the reader thought was the killer) to a set of underground train tracks, where he revealed his entire agenda moments before a valiant rescue attempt by the victim’s mother. It sounded like a great plot with interesting characters, but could I really be blamed for not wanting to read about a bloodthirsty serial killer?
Nah, I didn’t think so.
“Guys want SweeTARTS?” Noah asked, leaning over and shaking the box in front of Gabe and me.
I declined, but Gabriel’s hand slipped from mine and turned palm up as Noah shook some colorful treats into his hand. “Thanks,” he said, popping them in his mouth all in one go before his fingers slipped back through mine.
Hundreds of little lightning bolts zapped across my skin everywhere we touched, spreading outward. I squeezed his hand, feeling the big fingers with their rough callouses encase my thinner, smoother fingers. I didn’t exactly make it my life’s mission to hit the gym that often, and typing on a keyboard wasn’t the kind of profession that would make your hands weathered and worn.
We were the perfect fit. Two souls that matched in the physical realm, too. And after last night? Holy fucking shit, there was no denying it. Gabe and I were made for each other.
His thumb traced reassuring patterns over my knuckles, grounding me amidst the booming acoustics of the grand auditorium, made more impressive by the orchestra that played a song I didn’t recognize in the slightest but could still get lost in. It helped with the ebb and flow of my own turbulent emotions.
There were moments I felt myself swell on a rush of ecstasy—in love. I was in love with the perfect man, and he was in love with me—and then, seconds later, I’d come crashing down to reality, splattering myself all over the concrete. I was being stalked, my life was in danger, he could be in this crowd. Those thoughts were the ones that snatched the air right out of my lungs.
I leaned in and kissed Gabriel’s neck. We were in a packed theatre, not a dark alley. I was safe here. I could relax and try to enjoy the night, bask in the glow that still emanated from last night’s heartfelt confessions.
Love. Fuck. It had felt so right to say. Like I’d been meaning to say it since the second we met, no matter how messed up the circumstances had been or what kind of guardrails we placed between us. It felt weird to think about, but I guess there was a silver lining to being stalked by a serial killer?
Gabe looked past me, down the row at an empty seat. “And Steven?” he asked.
“Couldn’t make it tonight,” Eric answered. He looked like an extra-sharp teddy bear, wearing a navy blue sports jacket that made Colton’s eyes pop whenever he leaned over.
“I was going to invite Evan,” Yvette said in one woosh of words, if she needed to get that confession off her chest. The music from the opera was beginning to reach past the ceiling, signaling the show was close to starting.
“Seriously?” Tia said. She sat in the row behind us with Jess. They both looked like celebrities out on a date in the town. Tia wore a designer leather jacket with a shining eagle on the back and breast, paired with a simple but still-designer black T-shirt underneath. Jess opted for a little more color, her dress a formfitting emerald green that made her look like a walking forest.