Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 85(@200wpm)___ 68(@250wpm)___ 57(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 85(@200wpm)___ 68(@250wpm)___ 57(@300wpm)
“Can I come in?” Chewing on my bottom lip, I nod my head and step back.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” He looks at me puzzlingly and smiles.
“I'm checking on you. You ran out of there and away from me like a fugitive, babe. And now, you’re tense. I can see it. So, do you want to tell me what is going on?” I don’t know if my voice will work, but I'll try.
“I just-I just don’t know what we’re doing. I mean, what is this? Furthermore, what are the consequences if someone finds out? How much of a secret do we have to be?” The word vomit won’t stop no matter how much I try to keep my mouth shut. He sits beside me. I expect him to make me look at him, but he surprises me once more by picking me up and placing me on his lap. I squeak and look at him with such shock that he chuckles before rubbing my cheek.
“First of all, September, we are an us. There is you, there is me, but together we are a ‘we’. The minute I saw you, I knew you were going to be mine, but I didn’t want to rush you. Second, you don’t have to worry about consequences. I am not a teacher. I am a student like you. I just so happen to be the assistant to a professor for a class.” What? How did I not put that together?
“So no trouble?” Oh my gosh. That means no sneaking.
“No trouble. Now kiss me.” My stomach begins to flip at the deep command from this other side to him I have seen before. How much more am I going to discover? And why is it making me feel so good that I have no idea?
Chapter Six
Trevor
Three Days Later
I’ve spent weeks preparing for this Renaissance fair in Upstate New York. I’ve spent many nights and weekends painting random Elizabethan paintings and making daggers and swords that I sell. It’s not very lucrative, but I love it. I’ve been selling paintings at the fairs for several years now, but this is only the second year I’ve dabbled in metal works. My forge is in my parent’s backyard. I can’t see a two-thousand-degree fire pit working at the penthouse. It’s just another form of art for me, sculpting. It’s great for any aggression I feel, not that I feel a lot, but the rare times that I do, I pound out the steel. Wulf Blades are highly sought after at the fairs. I’m making a name for myself. I might not be in the media I thought it would be, but it’s nice nonetheless, especially since my family has been going to these all over New England for years. At first, I hated having to go to them. I’d rather have been riding my bike or boating at the lake like my friends, playing baseball, normal summer things, but I quickly got into it. I took my first art lesson from Madam Poulet, a traveling artist. It opened a whole new way of thinking and seeing beauty that I wouldn’t have seen if my mom didn’t love them as much as she does. She used to work as a tavern wench at the largest fair in New England, which is where she met Dad.
Later in the day, I meet September at the campus cafe, and we are now standing in line for coffee. She’s in front of me, and all I want to do is reach for her and hold her hand, but I don’t. I don’t think she’s ready to be quite so public with us. Every time I reach for her, she pulls away. I fucking hate it, but I can respect her boundaries.
“Come away with me this weekend,” I say after leaning down and whispering in her ear.
“So soon? Is that wise?” she asks hesitantly.
“Yes, Red,” I assure her. I’ll be a perfect gentleman, but I want to show her this side of me.
“Okay. Where are we going?”
“A ren fair in Sterling.”
“Where’s Sterling?”
“Upstate. I’ll take care of all the arrangements. You just worry about a costume or two.”
“So this a serious thing? Like cosplay?”
“Kind of.” She turns to face me, an odd smile on her face.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, Trevor, but you don’t seem like the kind of guy that likes stuff like this.”
“Stuff like this?” I ask, not the least bit offended. I’ve heard it all before.
“Ren fairs, costumes?” Believe me, I get it all the time. I look like an All-American football player, frat boy, instead of the nerdy artist that I am, which is why you should never judge a book by its cover.
“All kinds of people like them. The king of the fair is a lawyer in Manhattan. The queen is a doctor from Canada. It takes all kinds. I grew up going to them and working at them.” It’s all about who you know. Unfortunately, the season is almost over for the East Coast.