Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Another reason why I love her.
Bloody hell. My own thoughts make me pause, a kick in the chest.
Love.
I didn’t even think it was fucking possible after Rachel. I swore I would never give myself to another girl, that I would keep everything in my heart cold and wrapped up, with not a thread loose.
It had worked so well.
Until she walked into my life and pulled on a string I had never noticed.
And I unraveled.
Slowly.
But surely.
Fucking pansy, I tell myself, starting the car.
But even if I am, it’s all still true.
I am a pansy.
And I’m madly in love with her.
I sigh heavily and drive off down the highway. Because the world works in strange ways, “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” comes on the radio. I turn it up, roll down the windows, and start belting it out with a huge shit-eating grin on my face. It’s just like that scene in Jerry Maguire where Tom Cruise is singing “Free Falling,” except much, much lamer.
When I get to the apartment, the bottle of wine in one hand, the bouquet of flowers in the other, I still have that Tom Cruise grin on my face. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to stop smiling.
Until I open the door.
And see Amanda standing in the middle of the living room, her hands curled into fists, her eyes blazing into me with fire and brimstone.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her. She looks like she’s near tears, but the fury in her expression has me staying back and close to the door in case I need to run for my life.
“You told,” she seethes.
Bollocks.
“Told what?” I ask cautiously, stepping over to the kitchen to put the wine and flowers on the counter. I feel like I’m a bomb diffuser and it’s about to go off at any second.
She shakes her head slowly, her fists opening and closing. “You told everyone at the party that we write erotica together. You told them our pen name. You told them about everything.”
Her voice is thin and reedy and stretched by the anger I know she’s barely holding back.
I raise my hands and inch backward. “I can explain.”
“You asshole!” she yells, running at me, pounding her fists on my shoulders, arms, chest. Damn she has hands like rocks.
“Ow, ow, ow,” I say, trying to shield myself, holding up my knee to keep her back. “Please just listen.”
“You told them our secret!” she yells, her face as crimson as her hair, a vein ticking in her forehead. “Do you know what you’ve done?”
She breaks away and walks back into the living room, her hands grasping her head. “How could you do this?” she whispers.
“Hey, I did it for you,” I call after her, keeping the kitchen island between us just in case.
“What?” she snaps, slowly turning around and coming back to me. “You did what for me?” she asks, leaning against the counter, eyes flashing.
“Look, that tosser of yours and his girlfriend were saying mean things, okay? You know, those underhanded comments about how weird you are and how you’re a dreamer and the usual, good luck with being a writer, you’ll never make it, so what was I supposed to do?”
“They said that?” she asks, horrified.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter! Now they know I’m an erotica author! Do you think that made them respect me? You should have just punched him in the face.”
“I wanted to!” I yell at her. “And it did make them respect you, as they should! You should have seen their faces when I told them. I may have dropped how much money we make too, and believe me, in the long term, it’s more than they’ll ever know. They were impressed, Amanda. I shut them right up in their tracks. Words work better than fists.”
Her face softens with worry, and for a moment I think the anger is fading but then some kind of wall goes back up again and her eyes turn hard and mean. “That wasn’t your secret to tell. Now everyone knows. My parents.” She shakes her head, looking away. “You have no idea what it’s like to be a constant disappointment in your parents’ life. Now I’m practically disowned because of you.”
“Amanda, it doesn’t matter.”
“Oh, fuck you!” she yells, spinning around and jabbing her finger in the air. “Fuck you, Blake. You keep telling me what matters and what doesn’t, and guess what? Some things do! Some things do and you don’t get the right to comment on what things matter to me because it’s personal and you should know that. You should know that about me. How do you think your father will feel when he finds out?”
I still and swallow hard. “He doesn’t have to find out.”
“Oh really? Because I’ve already gotten an email from someone at the Victoria Times Colonist wanting to interview us both for being secret successes.”