Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“I had to move out after they saw the damage.”
He laughs as if what happened was a joke. It cost me my security deposit and the last vestiges of my sanity.
“We had fun, didn’t we, Char?” He grins.
Trent is attractive. He’s tall, kind of lanky, and brooding with greasy dark hair and even greasier eyes. They don’t so much look at you as slide off you.
When I first met him, I thought he was deep. Now I know he’s a toddler in a man’s body, with less emotional control than your average coked-out bear. He’s dangerous, though he doesn’t know it. He thinks he’s charming. I used to think he was charming too.
“Let go of me, Trent,” I repeat myself, trying not to trigger him. I know he’ll lose his shit if he feels rejected, but I don’t want him touching me. He makes my skin crawl.
“You’re looking good, Charlie,” he says, releasing his grip. He smiles at me again. He has one of those broad smiles that feels like the top of his head could unhinge. I used to think it was part of his charm. Now I feel like he could swallow me whole.
“Thanks. I’ve got to go. I’m late…”
He puts his hand out in front of me, resting it on the wall, blocking my way with his body.
“Nice clothes,” he says. “Who is buying you them?”
“I have a job.”
“No, you don’t. You have a weird obsession and a blog nobody reads because it’s not 2004 anymore,” he smirks. “You don’t do anything, Charlie.”
I do not fucking miss this guy. He never believed in me. He never even pretended to believe in me. To Trent, I was just another girl, indistinguishable from any other girl—which was why he so often got someone else’s vagina confused with mine.
I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from arguing back. I don’t want to justify myself to Trent. I just want to get the hell away from him.
“I’ve got to go,” I say. “I’m late for a meeting.”
“Who are you meeting at eight o’clock on a Tuesday?”
“None of your business, Trent.”
I see the clouds rolling over his face, the storm building in his eyes.
“Now why do you have to take that tone with me, Char?”
His fists clench. I take a step back, but he follows me and turns me so my back is against the wall. Cars are passing by on the street in front of us, and there’s a pedestrian here and there, but I might as well be invisible for all anybody seems to care.
“You know I don’t like your snotty attitude,” he says, looming over me with menace.
“What happened to the girl who had your baby?”
Maybe not the best question, but I am genuinely curious, and I’ll do anything to get the attention off me. Redirecting his ire to the woman unfortunate enough to be impregnated by him should do the trick.
“Bitch won’t let me see the kid.”
“Shocking,” I deadpan. “I can’t believe that.”
I can absolutely believe that, and one hundred percent support it. Trent is an asshole, and a dangerous one.
“It’s been so good to see you,” I lie through my teeth, “But I really need to get to my interview.”
“Blow it off,” he says. “You and I have some catching up to do. Let’s go to the diner. You can tell me how you got your fancy clothes.”
With every minute that passes, I realize that I am going to get in very fucking serious trouble with Marcus. Fear of that is very much starting to outweigh any fear of Trent I have.
“I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not letting you go,” he says. “You’ve been hiding from me, Char, and now I’ve found you, I think we should talk. I’ve missed you, baby. What we had was special.”
My stomach churns as he leans in, his lips wet. I had almost erased the memory of his kisses, and now they’ve come back to me. Bile rises in my throat. I put my hands up reflexively, making contact with his chest to push him back. I don’t like touching him. I don’t like him being in the same damn city as me.
A hand takes Trent by the shoulder from behind. He is spun around, and a slap echoes through the street—one so loud that it sounds like a gunshot.
“Fuck!” Trent screams like the bitch he called his poor ex.
The slap is followed up with a blow to the gut. A solid strike from a clenched fist.
Trent folds over and drops to the ground in a slow fall, ending up on his knees between me and Marcus.
“Peter, take this gentleman away,” Marcus says. His eyes never leave mine. He doesn’t even glance at Trent, who is being helped into the back of the car by Marcus’ driver.
“I wasn’t… I didn’t… I mean, this…”