Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 188957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 945(@200wpm)___ 756(@250wpm)___ 630(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 188957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 945(@200wpm)___ 756(@250wpm)___ 630(@300wpm)
So I can get out of here.
So I don’t blurt out all the things that are going through my head right now. Things like, I hate that he’s doing this. I hate that he’s making things so difficult.
So hard.
Why can’t he just go back to being his old self?
His old devil, tyrant, asshole self.
Why does he have to be so nice to me?
I hastily make my way to the door but before I can open it and get out of here, I turn around. My fingers flex around the handle when I realize that he’s watching me.
Sitting in his throne-like chair, glowing in the summer sun that he is actually blocking with his impossibly broad shoulders, he looks like the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
The most beautiful and the most powerful man.
God of a man.
And he is that, isn’t he?
At least for me.
Because he holds my fate, my stars, my destiny in the palms of his hands.
I just wish that my god wasn’t a devil.
“Are you going to be there?” I ask, my voice breathy. “At the mansion.”
Something moves across my devil’s features. Something dark and troubled. Mysterious.
Like all the things about him.
It stays there for a while before clearing off and in the end, he says, “No.”
And then I get out of here.
Trying to feel relief about his absence.
But I can’t.
I feel a strange disappointment.
But a second later, I forget all that. My brain doesn’t have the room for it.
Because I realize that I’ve made a huge mistake.
By agreeing to go.
Not that he asked me. He simply told me what’s going to happen this weekend, but still.
It’s a major mistake.
Because this weekend, I’m also meeting Jimmy.
And if he found out that I’m sneaking out to see the guy he’s forbidden me to see, it’s going to be a disaster.
Can I just say that I hate this bar?
I’ve always hated it.
It’s dark and loud and I don’t like the area — dingy and lonely and just straight-up filled with creepy vibes — of Middlemarch it’s in. Plus ever since I was sent to St. Mary’s, it’s also super far away and honestly by the time I get there, I’m so sleepy and tired.
But.
It’s a bar where the love of my life is super popular so I suck it up. Plus I’m always so happy to see Jimmy that I try not to think about all the stuff that makes me uncomfortable.
Tonight, however, it’s very hard.
Very, very hard.
First is the fact that I’m wearing this ridiculous dress.
Okay, let me backtrack: it’s not so much ridiculous as not really my style.
I don’t wear such tight dresses. Or such short dresses.
Or dresses that show off so much of my cleavage.
It could look really cute on either Salem or Jupiter. Even Callie I think. Mostly because they have the body type for it, slim and petite. Not Wyn or Echo though. They have a bigger bust.
Not as big as mine, but still.
My breasts are big, yes. My ass too. I have an hourglass figure, with a tucked in and slim waist, which sounds really good in theory but it’s so hard to find jeans and skirts that fit both my waist and my curvy curves.
So this isn’t the dress for me.
The only reason I bought it is because of its frills adorning the plunging neckline and the hem, which hits me way above midthigh, and just under my butt, and large polka dots. I really like large polka dots because mostly I find small ones and I thought it could look good on a skirt that I wanted to make. I never got around to it though. So it’s been sitting in my closet and I thought tonight’s the night I should wear it.
Because, well, I’m trying to get Jimmy to notice me.
I know he already has — he wants me on the tour and he doesn’t want to wait for me anymore — but ever since I found out that he has a tour manager named Erica who commented on my glasses and who also happens to be a beautiful blonde with a huge crush on the love of my life, I have been feeling insecure.
And I thought dressing up like a sex kitten might be a good idea.
I also have gone a little heavier on my makeup and my hair is all poofed up and curled.
Although I do not like how people are staring at me, especially drunk old men.
It’s icky, and so instead of being front and center and swaying with the crowd and pumping my hands up and down in support of my musician boyfriend, I’m staying back here, at the far end of the bar, stuck to a wall.
Two walls, actually. I’m tucked away in a corner.
And I have half a mind to leave.
Not only because of the dress, but I can’t get rid of the feeling that I’m betraying him.