Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
But as I said, he’s the right choice.
Which means she’ll go back to him.
To the guy she loves. Still.
The guy she wants to fix everything for.
Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck.
I’m only borrowing her. Only selfishly keeping her with me until I work her out of my system.
Like she’s some kind of an object. Some kind of a plaything.
You’re disgusting, aren’t you, you fucking asshole.
So whether I like it or not, I’m going to have to keep it a secret, her and me. From her ex-boyfriend who wanted her to cut ties with me, and for good reason. Because I’ll be damned if he makes her cry again and on account of me no less.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, words tasting like ash in my mouth, my fingers tingling with the need to squeeze his neck.
“You’re an asshole, you know that,” he scoffs.
“I’m aware.”
“At least have the fucking decency to treat me with respect.”
“Can’t.” I shake my head. “Got no respect for you.”
“She told me, you asshole.”
“Told you what?”
“That she picked you.”
“What?”
He grinds his teeth, anger flashing through his features. “I offered her my heart. I offered her everything that she ever wanted and she told me to go fuck myself. She told me that she never loved me. That she was lying. All these years, she was fucking lying. And so she was ending it and picking you.”
I can’t breathe.
I can’t fucking get any air.
I can’t…
“But hey,” he says, stepping even closer to me, “here’s a word of advice: don’t get too comfy. You never know when she’ll do the thing she did to me, to you. And given how she’s blowing up my phone with texts, that day might be coming sooner than you expected. Once a cheater, always a cheater, isn’t it?”
I do it then.
I give my tingling fingers relief and fucking punch him in the throat.
When he goes sprawling on the ground, I bend down and growl, “Don’t fucking talk about my girl like that.”
And then leaving him there, I’m running.
I’m fucking running for my life.
I’m running to the girl who lied to me.
She fucking lied.
CHAPTER FORTY
I did a bad thing.
I’ll be the first to admit that.
I did a very girlfriend thing.
Although I’m not a girlfriend and when I was one, I’d never done something like that. But then again, I hadn’t done half the things that I have now that I’m a non-girlfriend girlfriend.
But anyway.
I withheld sex.
Or threatened to.
I told my non-boyfriend boyfriend that I won’t sleep with him until he goes out with his big brother. And then I felt so awful about it that I started crying.
And then I slept with him anyway.
But the good news is that he did go out with his brother.
I would’ve been happier though if he’d gone out to play soccer. Which he hates.
Or rather claims to hate.
I say claims because I don’t think he hates soccer. At least, not the game itself. I think what he hates is that it was something he was forced to do. Because of his big brother. And that it’s still his big brother’s favorite sport. And since he hates everything related to his abusive asshole dad, like he should, he lumps soccer in as well.
But I’m going to tell him.
I’ve decided.
I’m going to tell him that he doesn’t hate soccer. He hates what it represents.
And then I’m going to tell him that I love him.
I know. I know I shouldn’t.
This information is even more disastrous than the soccer thing. Plus I’m his good girl and so I should keep my mouth shut and I should let it lie.
But I can’t.
Because letting it lie is actually lying.
And while it was okay in the beginning, to not tell him, to not reveal that I’ve cut all ties from my ex-boyfriend, it’s not anymore. I can’t lie to him anymore. I can’t keep it inside.
He needs to know.
I want him to know.
And if it makes me a bad girl, then so be it.
Because he’s the one who taught me to be myself. And loving him is a part of me.
As to when I’ll do all this, I don’t know. I think I need a plan, a proper moment to make the big reveal. Like I did with my virginity thing.
Which is what I’m thinking about, instead of reading my book, when I see him.
At the window.
Smiling like crazy, I throw my book away and jump out of the bed to let him in. And as soon as his feet land on my bedroom floor, I bombard him with questions.
“How was it? Was it good? Did you have fun?” I hop up and down, hopefully keeping it down because my parents are sleeping just down the hall. “Please tell me you had fun. Because I think you had fun. Well, I hope you had fun. I really want you to have had fun. Because I really want you to go out with him again. I think this could be like a regular thing for you. Like brother-bonding time. And —”