Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 98134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Pulling the old, ‘actually, I don’t’ maneuver?”
“Yeah.”
Andi bites her lip, forehead scrunching up as she stares at something on the floor. “No,” she says after a few quiet moments. “I mean, I feel bad that I don’t feel bad. But I keep thinking about it and waiting for the real guilt or regret to hit me. Instead, all I’ve been feeling is this sense of freedom and relief, like a huge weight rolled off my shoulders.”
“How did you guys meet, anyway?”
“At a fundraiser event Jake invited me to. We went on a couple dates and they were… also fine. He was pretty easy to talk to, even if it was always a little boring and impersonal. He had this huge family fortune and a lot of job responsibilities. Everybody I knew was over the moon for me, like I’d won some kind of lottery. Before him, my last few relationships were kind of disasters of epic proportions, so I think a normal, stable guy seemed like such an obvious ‘right’ answer I even had myself convinced it all made sense.”
I try to imagine myself in her shoes and nod. “That had to be hard.”
She tilts her head. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic. I mean, yeah. Who is going to feel bad for the girl who starts dating some mega millionaire rich guy that doesn’t treat her badly, right?”
“I mean feeling trapped. That’s how you felt, right?”
She lets out a sudden breath like my words hit her in the chest.
“Sorry,” I say quickly. “I didn’t mean to assume. I just–”
“No,” she says, smiling now. “It’s just that nobody ever got it. In all the time I was with Landon, I’d try to bring up how I was really feeling and they’d get it wrong. They’d think I meant something else or refuse to really hear me. Everybody just gushed about how lucky I was and how excited I must be. At some point, I think I started to believe them. After all, all these people were telling me how I should feel. What did my own feelings matter at that point, right?”
“What happened at the wedding?” I ask.
“I realized it wasn’t fair to either me or Landon. I left him a note explaining everything because I was worried I’d lose my nerve if I said it to his face. I was planning to tell a few more people, but then I heard my mom and my aunt coming to get me. So I just jumped out of the closest window and lost my shoes in the process. I kept thinking they’d catch me, but I cut through some trees instead of sticking to the road. I ran like a mile to my car, got in, and boom.” She makes a zipping away gesture with her hand and smiles. “I still can’t believe I did that. In a way, it feels like I lit a stick of TNT and threw it, but I’m still waiting for the explosion.”
“I can imagine. Well, from what I know of Jake, he’ll understand. If he’s too hard on you, I’ll bail you out. Okay?”
Her smile is crooked. “Why are you so nice to a girl you just met, Jesse? Usually, I’d accuse a guy acting like you of wanting to sleep with me. But I don’t think that’s what you’re trying to do. So what is it?” Her tone is playful, but there’s a glimmer of real curiosity behind her eyes.
“I’m just doing what anyone would do.” I try not to gulp down a hard swallow. Wanting to sleep with me. Just hearing the words slip between her full lips makes them alive, real, and dangerous. I can almost feel their silky thread tightening around me, threatening to pull me closer to her and toward all the bad decisions I’d make if my hands were on her body.
“What anyone would do, hm? I’m not so sure about that.”
I clear my throat because the moment suddenly feels a little too heavy. “Well, I’m hungry. I can go pick up some takeout if you want to shower and clean up.”
“Are you trying to tell me I should clean up, Jesse? Do I stink?” She raises an eyebrow.
“No. Somehow you still smell like flowers and sunshine.”
There’s that crooked smile again. “Have you been sniffing me?”
“What kind of food do you want?” I ask, because I’m not a good liar.
Her smile goes wider. “Surprise me. Which shower should I use?”
“Take your pick.” I hesitate. “Actually. Use the one in my room. If the guys get back early, I don’t want them barging in on you.”
“Right,” she says. “That’s smart. If I use your shower, you’ll be the only one at risk of barging in on me and seeing me naked.”
I can’t think of a solid argument for that, but I’m also still not willing to tell her to go use another shower and risk the guys walking in on her. I pretend not to hear her and point behind her. “It’s the one at the end of the hall.”