Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
I should be doing a million things right now. I should pull my arm from his grip. I should dig my feet in. I should argue that he’s too drunk to make decisions like this.
I do none of those things. What I do do is smile so wide my face hurts and follow him to the dance floor.
He’d never do this sober. He may want to, but that part of him that still can’t accept who he truly is would never allow for him to act this way around witnesses.
He doesn’t pull me to his chest, which is a relief and makes me sad at the same time.
With his beer bottle in one hand, he raises his arm and moves to the music. I’ve seen Landon dance before. We’ve been going to school dances since we were preteens. The man has never had any rhythm, and even intoxicated tonight that hasn’t changed.
I chuckle at the offbeat swing of his hips, finding him not being completely perfect in all things endearing. It makes him more real. I move as well, my dancing no better than his. The difference between the two of us is Landon thinks he looks good, whereas I just don’t care what others think.
As one song fades into the next, the girl I hate, for no other reason than she’s had parts of Landon I’ve always wanted for myself, slides up with a grin on her face.
She doesn’t hesitate lining as much of her body as she can against Landon’s. I feel a little better when his smile fades into shock when he opens his eyes and sees that it’s Mazie dancing with him and not me.
He waves me forward, indicating that I should sandwich her with him. Although I know I’m going to somehow regret this entire night, I oblige.
His eyes stay on mine as one hand falls from the air. Instead of clinging to her, he fists my t-shirt, the action hidden in the crush of our bodies.
We find some semblance of rhythm, both Landon and I synchronizing with her movements. I can tell by the roll of her hips in perfect cadence with the music that this girl is the only one in our little dance pack that actually knows what she’s doing.
Knowing that probably translates into being amazing in bed, and jealousy, swims inside of me.
I place my hand on Landon’s arm, right where I’d be touching Mazie’s hip, hoping if anyone sees it, they’ll just assume I’m drunk and thinking I’m touching her and not him.
Desire swims in his gaze as his teeth dig into his lower lip, but then his eyes flutter closed, the music or alcohol or a combination of both taking over, and the man is just living in the moment.
I want to be the one in his arms, but if I’m not, if doing this with me alone would be too much, is it too much to ask that he doesn’t do it with her?
His grip on my shirt loosens as he sways, and I watch with a breaking heart as Mazie runs her hands over his shoulders in a bid to get that much closer to him.
I can’t do the crazy boyfriend thing and shove her away despite wanting to. He wouldn’t appreciate it. He’d probably never speak to me again if I outed him that way, so I do the only thing I can. I walk away.
But not before I see her press her mouth to his neck and watch as his lips turn up in a smile.
I’d told him I thought he’d want to fuck me for his birthday rather than the other way around, but I realize as I walk back to the dorm alone, that I can never let that happen. I can never give that part of me to that man.
I have to leave something untouched, a part of me that he doesn’t own.
Chapter 29
Landon
The worst part about a massive hangover is waking up and realizing you have very little recollection of the night before. I assess my situation as I crack my eyes open, the pain of daylight making me want to scream, but my head hurts too much for that.
I’m in Jason’s living room, propped up in the corner of his couch. My neck aches from sleeping in a sitting position for God only knows how many hours. I’m fully clothed, and there isn’t a single person close enough to touch me.
Other than… I lift my foot, tugging it out from under some guy passed out at my feet. He snores loudly as he turns from his back to his side on the filthy floor, his head precariously close to what looks like vomit.
I’ve only ever been in this house at night, have only seen it under flashing party lights, but fuck. Is this place always this nasty?