Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
And then there was what he’d shared with me, offering his pain up so freely, sharing his trauma with me without agenda, with such vulnerability it obliterated my walls.
“You’re glowing,” Kiera informed me as she was doing my makeup at the apartment. She was drinking the champagne from Kane’s and my latest grocery trip. The very fancy kind. We’d argued over who would pay. He’d won.
I had a tequila on the rocks, unearthed from the depths of my freezer.
I wasn’t normally one for hard liquor, but I was going to be attending a party. Full of people I likely had nothing in common with, people Kane knew as acquaintances at least and friends at most. I wanted to … impress them. I wasn’t versed with impressing people with social interactions; I let my food do that. I didn’t normally care if people liked me, therefore, I didn’t have the social skills to make that happen.
Hence the tequila.
“I’m not glowing,” I argued. “You’re just seeing me through rose-colored glasses because Kane charmed you, and you’re a romantic. And because you live in rose-colored glasses.”
It was something of an enigma that Kiera and I were even friends. Her the eternal romantic, an optimist. Warm, charismatic, extroverted and glamorous. Me, pretty much everything the opposite. Our friendship was happenstance, her answering my ad for a roommate in an apartment in Chelsea I couldn’t afford. Initially, I’d written off the girl wearing bubblegum-pink lipstick, in six-inch heels who spoke loudly and giggled easily. I figured she’d get on my nerves. Except she was the only one who answered the ad apart from a guy who asked me where I put my worn socks.
Kiera it was.
And somehow, that crazy bitch pulled out of me a similar kind of softness and fun like Kane had. We’d been friends ever since.
She paused, mascara wand in hand, leaning back in order to give me a sharp look. “I may live in rose-colored glasses, but I’m seeing you clearly, baby. You are glo-wing.” She winked, regarding me with more scrutiny that had nothing to do with my makeup and everything to do with how well she knew me.
“You like him,” she hummed. “Actually like. For more than the no doubt wild sex that is working better than any $500 face cream. This man is under your skin.”
My cheeks heated, hearing her say it out loud. I didn’t know why it embarrassed me. Human beings were allowed to like people, fall in love. It was a rite of passage. But for me, it felt like a weakness.
“I do,” I said instead of denying it. It was exceptionally hard to say, even to Kiera who had never judged another person in her entire life.
I expected Kiera to smile, to throw a party in the streets. For years, the eternal romantic had wanted me to find something with someone, even though she herself hadn’t had a relationship that lasted longer than a season.
Except she didn’t smile, her eyes were not light and teasing. “I can’t believe I’m telling you of all people this, but be careful, Avery.”
A boulder landed in my stomach. “I’ve been careful all my life.” I felt defensive, evident by the bite to my voice. “I think I’m entitled to take a risk or two.”
“You are,” she nodded. “But you’re my friend. I see past that tough exterior and know there’s a soft heart in there. I don’t want it damaged any more than it has been. I want someone to take care of it, be gentle with it. And Kane ‘The Devil’ Rhodes is not known for taking care or being gentle. Nor is he known for long and steady relationships.”
She was speaking the truth, stating the words I’d whispered to myself, the ones I’d tried to drown out with the noise of the kitchen, the sounds of life with Kane.
Now that we were in the quiet of my apartment, with nothing but Taylor Swift singing about small men, the words hit their mark.
Still, I felt cornered, not ready to face up to these facts. And I was mad at my best friend. I opened my mouth to say something rash, something I’d likely regret, but she held up a hand, maybe reading my expression.
“That's all I’m going to say on the matter,” she told me. “And I’m only saying it because I love you. Because I have a slight amount more experience on men in general and a certifiable PhD in assholes. Not that Kane is an asshole,” she added quickly. “He seems the absolute opposite. But sometimes those ones, the ones who masquerade as bad but seem good, are the ones who do the most damage.” She drained her drink. “Okay, that’s it, that’s enough of my not so sage wisdom and my protective friend routine. I know you can look after yourself, and I’m here cheering for a happy ending. If not, an ending on your terms. And just to let you know that if he hurts you, I’ll cut his motherfucking balls off and let you make arancini out of them.” She smiled sweetly. “Now, let’s make you the hottest bitch at the party.”