Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Mostly because he does it when he’s around.
Like on the bus or at parties like these.
Which sometimes makes me think whether he’s trying to do what I used to do: make him jealous. I had my reasons and I guess he has his. He’s probably still angry at Stellan for pulling what he did.
And there’s their rocky relationship.
Anyway, as soon as we arrive at this victory party, I feel like it’s going to end in disaster. Maybe because it’s in a bar that’s too crowded for my liking. Or the fact that everyone’s a little too drunk by the time we get there. Or it could be that this is the home base for the team that lost so the crowd is angry at us, the intruders.
Whatever it is, I know it’s not going to be a good time.
Sure enough, ten minutes into our arrival, a fight breaks out between a few of the bar patrons and some guys on the team. When that’s settled, there’s some catcalling and booing. We get a reprieve for about twenty minutes, when a group of cheerleaders approach the guys on the team.
Before I take a little bathroom break, I watch them disappear in the crowd one by one. As I’m coming back, I’m waylaid by a couple of drunk guys. They try to chat me up and flirt with me. One of them offers me a drink, which I politely decline. When I tell them that I need to go, they try to get into my space and touch me.
While I have plenty of experience with dealing with pushy men, I still get a little scared about how loud and brash they’re being. I try to catch Shep’s eyes over their shoulders, maybe call out to him even though I don’t think he’ll hear me over the din, when I find him flirting with a couple of those cheerleaders.
For a second, I can’t figure out why I’m frozen by this. I mean, I don’t mind—I really do not—that he’s flirting with other girls. That’s not the reason for my immobility. And then it occurs to me.
I’m frozen because I don’t mind. I’m not at all uncomfortable by this. Or jealous by him choosing to flirt with other girls. In fact, I’m relieved. That his attention is occupied elsewhere, and he probably won’t be flirting with me, thereby torturing his twin brother.
It’s the same thing I felt—the relief—when Shepard decided to have two different rooms. And while back then I thought it would pass and I’d grow more comfortable with us being engaged, now I don’t think so.
I haven’t grown comfortable at all.
In fact, I’ve grown even more restless over the last couple of weeks. I’ve grown even more antsy and unhappy and downright miserable that the man I’m in love with is tormented and I can’t be with him. I can’t do anything to ease his misery, to soothe him.
So I can’t do this, can I?
I can’t.
I can’t be engaged to Shepard. I know he’s trying to help me. He’s trying to fix things. But I have to fix things myself. I can’t use him as a crutch anymore. I can’t use him period; he’s my friend and this is my life.
Coming back to the moment, I try to break away from the guys. I try to go to Shepard and ask him if he could talk to me. Now that I know I can’t wait a second longer. But these guys won’t give me an opening and my fear ratchets up. I’m about to really make a run for it when I see a hand appear on one of the guys’ chests.
It’s large and dusky, and it’s splayed wide with long fingers.
And it’s accompanied by a growled, “Back away.”
It comes from behind me, that growl, and the guy it’s addressed to goes wide-eyed at his arrival. I know who it is, of course.
As if I wouldn’t know.
They could take away my vision and I’d still know who it was just by the sound of his voice. They could take away my hearing too and I’d still know who it was just by the scent of his skin.
I’d know him anywhere.
He’s the man I’m in love with and no matter what I do, I can’t stop. No matter how much it hurts, I can’t stop.
He’s like a drug, see.
He’s like that cigarette he smokes. And while he can pace himself and indulge in only one per day, I can’t. While he can control his bad habit, I’m a full-blown addict. While he knows how to handle the poison in his veins, my blood is downright toxic by now.
I can’t pace myself. I don’t know how.
I don’t know how to measure my love or who to give it to or how not to give it to the one who doesn’t know what to do with it. All I know is to love.