Total pages in book: 199
Estimated words: 200280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1001(@200wpm)___ 801(@250wpm)___ 668(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1001(@200wpm)___ 801(@250wpm)___ 668(@300wpm)
There’s just him and me.
Locked away in a place with no time or space.
But of course that’s not true, is it?
Even though it feels to me like we exist in a different plane, we don’t. And he hasn’t forgotten that. He hasn’t lost himself like I have and so he breaks the trance and takes his hand off the wall, ready to leave.
Ready to do what he promised he would.
And I grab on to his jacket then.
I grab it tightly and firmly, stopping him. “He’s no one, okay? Just a guy. I promise. A family friend.”
His nostrils flare. “A family friend.”
I lick my dried-out lips. “Yes. It wasn’t even my idea to see him tonight. It was my dad’s and —”
“Your dad.” Then, “Your piece of shit dad.”
Needless to say that when I was crazy for him, I told him everything. Well, most things. And those things included my parental history. So he knows everything about my dad and my mom. Not to mention when Callie and Reed got together, the entire Thorne family came to know about how shitty my father is. While all I know about is family is what I’ve heard either from my town gossip or from Callie.
Not from him though.
Never from him.
And I thought that it was because I hadn’t yet broken the barrier with him and that maybe I should do better. But of course that wasn’t the case. He just wasn’t into me.
Anyway.
“Yes,” I say. “He set up the meeting.”
“Why?”
Shit.
We’re getting into dangerous territory here. I do not want him to know why.
I do not want anyone to know why.
“Because,” I start, grasping at straws. “As I said, he’s a family friend. My dad wants me to, I don’t know, mingle.”
He doesn’t believe me.
I can see it clearly on his face. I can see clearly that he won’t let it go either. But before he can force me to tell him the truth, I decide to give it to him anyway — partial truth though — and distract him.
“Look, you already know that my dad’s a piece of shit, right? So as such, he’s bound to do piece of shit of things.” I twist my hands in his jacket, keeping him from bolting as I keep going. “He’s trying to play matchmaker, okay? He’s trying to push Ezra and me together. He wants us to, I don’t know, get engaged, get married but —” His frame jerks and his jaw gets so tight that it hurts even me and so I tighten my hold on his stupid jacket. “But I don’t want it. I don’t want to marry him. I don’t want to marry anyone right now. So I want you to calm down, okay? I want you to rein it in and let me handle it.”
His frame jerks again and I almost lose my grip on him as he growls, “Handle it.”
“Yes. Because that’s what I’m doing.”
“I’m going to —”
“No,” I tug on his jacket again and say firmly. “You’re not going to do anything. Because look.” I raise my left hand and show him. “Do you see an engagement ring? That’s because, as I said, I’m handling it, and I don’t want anyone to interfere, least of all you.”
I knew this would happen.
If anyone ever found out — anyone who cares about me that is — that I was marrying according to my dad’s wishes, they’d go crazy. Especially my brother. He’d know right away that something was wrong and he’d do anything in his power to get me out of it. That’s why I haven’t told any of my friends.
Not to mention, good thinking about taking off the ring and stuffing it in my purse as soon as I got into the bathroom.
“Now can you please calm down?” I sigh. “And stop acting like a murderer on the loose. There’s no need for it. It’s not as if I haven’t smiled at guys before today. In fact, I have and…” God, I can’t believe I’m saying this but whatever. “I have smiled at guys; I’ve flirted with them. Deliberately. Just for the purpose of riling you up. And you never went this batshit crazy. So I don’t understand what —”
“I did.”
“What?”
His jaw is still ticking and I think that’s because he still doesn’t like the fact that I’ve asked him to back off. “After.”
“After what?”
“When you couldn’t see.”
I study him then.
His anger-lined features. His pitch black eyes. That crazy hair of his, teasing his frown.
The way he’s leaning over me, and I remember something.
I remember that this is what he used to do.
Lean over me, slightly hunch his shoulders, bend his back. So I didn’t have to stand on my tiptoes or crane my neck up too much even in my heels, to look into his eyes due to our massive height difference. I used to love that. I used to think he did it to put me at ease. He did it to make things easy for me and the fact that he did it so unconsciously made me love it even more.