Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
I worked my dick in a frenzy, a high after a low, milking myself to a stream of seedy thoughts, imagining her naked, whimpering at my touch, begging for more, until I blew my fucking load all over the coffee table, managing to aim away from my pill stash, at least. My fountain pen was splattered with cum when I was done, though. So much for the farewell letters.
I lit up a cigarette at the window in the aftermath, staring out at the Crenham Drive misery as my senses came back to me. Both a blessing and a curse.
I knew myself well enough to know where my needs would lead when it came to an innocent little damsel in distress, and I couldn’t let it happen. Not here, in the hovel I’d run to. Rosie didn’t deserve any more demons, so mine had to be tamed, until I had the courage to kill them along with myself.
So, I gave myself one final demand to hold true to.
Whatever I did, whatever I thought, no matter how fucking hard my dick got, it wouldn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. THAT’S what I promised myself.
No matter what, I would stay the fuck away from the girl downstairs.
Chapter Three
Rosie
I wasn’t expecting to find Mum in the kitchen when I stepped out of the bathroom next morning. I was still towelling my hair dry as she gave me a huge grin, the frying pan already sizzling on the hob.
“I’m getting you some breakfast before college.”
“Wow. Thanks.”
I couldn’t remember the last time Mum made me breakfast.
“How many eggs?” she asked me, and I stood beside her, still in shock.
“Two, please.”
“Toast?”
She already had the bread out, ready to go.
“Yes, please.”
The swelling had gone down on her face, and she was already made up to hide the split in her lip, which was lucky, but hmm, the realisation took me a little off guard. She looked very preened compared to usual for her morning of care work. I looked her up and down, noticing that she was in her best pair of jeans.
She read my gaze.
“I called in sick,” she said. “I’m not feeling well after the Scottie blow up. My face is still sore.”
I understood that, but kept on staring at her as she fried our eggs. Something wasn’t quite adding up here.
“Are you going out or something?”
She didn’t look at me, just focused on the eggs.
“Yeah. I’m heading out with Trisha for a bit to take my mind off it. We’re going downtown to get some clothes for Ramsay.”
That was code for heading downtown and hitting the clothes shops for themselves. I should have realised it was the end of month and her wages had landed into her bank account. At least she’d usually wait until the weekend to hit the shops, not call in sick at work on a Friday. It was lucky I was working so many pizza shifts, since I’d be the one bailing us out on the electricity meter.
I couldn’t hide how pissed off I was with her best friend.
“Nice that Trisha wants to be bothered with you this morning, considering she wouldn’t come when I was screaming for help last night.”
“She didn’t hear you,” Mum said, even though she knew that was bullshit. Trisha would have heard me loud and clear.
Mum buttered my toast and put my eggs on top, handing it over like it was a gift. I guess it was. A token sign that she cared was always worth a lot to me.
I walked through to our dining table, which was backed up in the corner of the living room. The place looked weirdly big without the coffee table.
Mum sat alongside me to munch on her breakfast, flashing me a smile.
“Thanks for last night,” she said. “Julian was a hero.”
That same wistful grin was on her face, and I counted myself lucky for the good fortune. At least it wasn’t Scottie she was doe-eyed over this time.
It didn’t take long for us to finish, so I took her empty plate out along with mine. I washed them off in the sink, wondering how many we had left after a load went careening to ceramic death last night.
“I’ll get some more from town,” she told me from the doorway, reading my mind. “The charity shops have a lot of them.”
“Good call,” I said.
She moved closer, propping herself against the counter.
“So, about Julian. Do you think I should thank him by inviting him over for dinner?”
It was a rhetorical question, because she didn’t care what I would think about it. She never cared what I thought about Scottie, the guy who raised his fists to her. I looked her in the eyes as I dried our plates, and I knew what she was really asking me. She needed a hit of confidence.
“Yeah, I think he would like you. Sure.”