Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
“I’ll give you a ride,” I say.
The words hurt me. My body goes tight, my seed bulging in my balls, reminding me that we’ve got far more important things to do than to drive home.
But there’s no way I can explain it all.
All that darkness.
All that pain.
All that regret.
Would she ever see me the same? Would she judge me, hate me?
“Thank you,” she murmurs. “That would be nice.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Fiona
Thinking of you xxxx
I stare down at the text for a long time, wondering whether I should send it. It’s the morning after our date. My belly turns into a ball of tension when I think about the car ride home, how we spoke about my would-be fashion career, work, sports, TV… pretty much anything except for my virginity and his sudden important anniversary.
When he said that word – anniversary – my mind instantly went to another woman. But then he said he was spending today with his mother.
What the heck are they doing?
It has something to do with his childhood, maybe his dad.
Then my mind turned to his other words when he said he didn’t care if I was a virgin. My heart beats a little quicker at that, warm kisses moving over my skin, tempting me to believe him.
But I can’t forget the way his expression darkened when I first told him. His eyes narrowed, and his lips twisted into something like a grimace as if he was trying to hold back his reflexive response of disgust.
Is it desperate to text him like this when he hasn’t texted me all night and morning?
I press send, then toss my phone to the other end of the bed. I don’t care if it’s desperate or anything else. I just need him to know I want things to continue, even if I freaked last night.
It was difficult to process anything else after I told him I was a virgin and difficult to explore any other topics. All I could think about was the disgusted intensity in his eyes, the instant disappointment.
But he said he didn’t care.
What if I was misreading the signs? What if he was feeling something else, another emotion that would mark him with similar intensity?
What if he was feeling everything I wish he would?
I almost leap across the bed when my phone buzzes.
Picking it up, part of me hopes it isn’t Felix so I don’t have to confront his response. I remember when all we did was text. It seems so long ago, even if it was only a couple of days…so much has happened and changed since then.
One thing, though, hasn’t changed at all.
I want to be with him forever. I want to have his babies. And he most likely doesn’t.
Heck, most likely, as if there’s a chance. He doesn’t.
The text is from Felix. My lips shape a smile before any negative emotions can touch it.
I’m thinking of you too, mystery girl. I can’t wait for tomorrow xxxxx
Why not today? XXXX
I hold my finger over the send button for a moment, then quickly delete the message. The last thing he needs is me pressuring him about this.
I just wish he would explain what this anniversary meant. If it’s something to do with when he was a kid, then I doubt it involves another woman.
Whatever the reason, knowing I won’t see him until tomorrow has me wanting to stay in bed. It’s a Saturday, and usually, I’d spend the weekend trying to work on my fashion career…or looking for part-time work to supplement my income. Something, anything productive.
But now, all I want to do is lie in bed and sleep, close my eyes and wait until I can see Felix again. I replay the scene in the bedroom countless times, imagining all the ways it could’ve gone differently, thinking of all the things I could’ve done differently.
When he told me he didn’t care I was a virgin, I should’ve reached out and grabbed onto his manhood, squeezing him through his pants. I should’ve rubbed up and down, giving him the sexiest eyes I’m capable of, telling him he needed to show me how little he cared.
But everything is so much easier in my mind. Or through text.
There’s an idea.
Composing a new message, I write, I wish I’d handled yesterday differently
His response comes a minute later. I sit up in bed, drawing my knees to my chest, as outside the city makes its loud bustling noises.
A car horn honks, and a cat screeches.
So do I, Fiona
It’s crazy how, even after we’ve been physical together, these text messages still get my body buzzing.
How so?
I tell myself I’m going to get up, shower, and brush my teeth before I check for his response.
But I’ve barely stood up before I look at my phone again. I feel like I did the first time he ever texted back, full of giddiness and excitement.