Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
My breath plumed in the early December air as I made my way quickly to the small building. I rushed inside, closing the door behind me, breathing in the slightly musty air. There wasn’t any heat in here, but it was warmer than outside, and it’d certainly be a lot warmer than our drafty trailer. I spread my stuff out on the table in the back and got started on my homework. I lingered over my assignments, not wanting to leave, happy in my solitude.
A little while later, when I closed my binder and stood up to choose a new book, I noticed a small white piece of paper sticking out of The Bluest Eye, the novel I’d returned right before Kyland kissed me. Recalling his kiss, I childishly made a disgusted sound aloud in the quiet room—just because it felt good—and then reached for the book. I pulled out the slip of paper, my heart skipping a beat when I saw tiny, slanted script:
One of the bleakest books I’ve ever read, offering no hope whatsoever. Made me want to throw myself off the nearest cliff.—KB
I paused, reading the line over again. KB. Kyland Barrett. Was he trying to be funny? My anger rose as I sat to write my reply:
Only an ignorant hick would fail to see the true point of this novel, which is that we all have an internal dialogue that either keeps us trapped or sets us free. As far as a cliff, I’d suggest Dead Man’s Bluff—the name alone is optimistic as far as your cause. In addition, it’s the highest one in the area and offers lots of jagged rocks in the basin, practically guaranteeing your demise.—TF
I smiled and stuck the paper between the pages, leaving it sticking out the top. Then I perused the books I’d read, looking for the most depressing, disturbing one I could, finally pulling Brighton Rock off the shelf, leaving an obvious gap where it had sat.
Two days later, I brought it back and three days after that, when I returned to the library, a note was sticking out of the top:
An enjoyable read. I was especially impressed by the character Pinkie.—KB
I made a disgusted sound in my throat, quickly scrawling out:
Only a truly disturbed person would be impressed by a villainous, sociopathic gang leader, who cruelly destroyed the beautiful, decent girl who loved him. What happened to Dead Man’s Bluff?—TF
Then I looked over the shelf, choosing a book that was not only depressing, but disgusting as well.
Five days later, The Road:
An exciting tale of the Apocalypse…survival…cannibalism…underground bunkers. A book every guy will devour!—KB
I frowned.
I see what you did there with the word “devour.” You really are a sicko.—TF
I went for gusto, choosing arguably the most depressing book ever written.
Four days later, The Bell Jar:
Nice try. I’m onto you.—KB
I laughed out loud despite myself. And damn him, I had tried to hang on to my anger and now here I was smiling at his damn note. The smile faded slowly. I perused the shelf for another book, some kind of melancholy gripping my stupid, lonely heart. I leaned back against the bookshelf, biting my lip. I liked him. Still. Even after he’d hurt me. And what was the point? And why he was bothering to amuse himself with me, I didn’t know. But I had seen what happened when a woman got hung up on a man who wasn’t interested in her, and I wasn’t going there. I was not. Better to leave things as they were. I wasn’t going to encourage this game. It would only create hope, and when it came to Kyland, hope was not something I would entertain. I sighed and gathered up my stuff, leaving the library and lowering my head against the cold as I trudged up the mountain.
CHAPTER SIX
Kyland
I went to the small library every morning for the next week, but there was never a note waiting for me. I tried to convince myself it didn’t matter—it’d just been a fun distraction, and I’d actually enjoyed the books. They’d helped me pass several lonely nights. But the truth was, I was disappointed that Tenleigh, apparently, was done with our exchange. And I gathered she might still be mad at me. Who could blame her? I’d acted like an idiot, kissing her after I’d vowed not to, and then acting as if it was her fault. I just felt so damn helpless around her and it pissed me off.
I brought my fingers to my lips as if some small part of her still remained there. God, she’d tasted so good, even better than I’d imagined. It had taken everything in me to pull away and I’d dreamed about that damn kiss every night since. I wasn’t going to do it again, though. As much as I wanted to. I wasn’t going to take something from her I could never give back—her heart, her purity. Tenleigh had had enough taken from her in this life. I wasn’t going to be responsible for giving her false hope and then leaving her high and dry when I left. She deserved better.