Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
My mouth goes dry, and my hands grow clammy. This is a really bad idea. I’ve spent years reminding myself of all the damage I did to Lavender when she was too young to comprehend how dangerous I was for her. Five years avoiding. Five years exorcising her from my system. Yet here I am, looking to be possessed all over again, with no real understanding of why.
Well, that’s untrue. I know exactly why.
Next year she’s supposed to stay here and go to a local college, but the year after that, there’s a chance she’s going to end up going to school with us in Chicago. Robbie goes to school there, and now so does Mav. River’s been talking about the kinesiology program, and the university has a kickass football team too.
I need to learn how to deal with Lavender again, eventually. I can’t avoid her forever.
This is how I rationalize my actions. I pass closed door after closed door and stop at the one with the sign fixed to it. It reads TEEN GIRLS INSIDE: ENTER AT THE RISK OF YOUR _____. Followed by a picture of a squirrel holding a set of nuts.
I glance down the hall; no light comes from under any of the doors, including the one I’m standing in front of. I listen for voices, but all I hear is the sound of my own breathing and the pounding of blood in my ears.
I curl my fingers around the doorknob. Feel the heady rush of adrenaline as I turn it, ever so slowly. It’s so quiet, I can hear the mechanisms clicking inside, like a bomb preparing to detonate. When it doesn’t turn any farther, I push, holding my breath as the hinges creak.
There’s no way for me to justify my actions to Maverick, or worse, River, if either one of them found me in here. I wouldn’t have a best friend anymore, and after years of separation, it’s nice to finally have him back, good to finally be playing for the same hockey team.
But even that isn’t enough to stop me, which tells me more than I want it to. I’m so fucked up.
Just so fucked.
I push the door open a little more, quickly this time, to prevent it from creaking. A clock glows on the nightstand between the two double beds. A soft beam of light travels from the bathroom to the bed, cutting a line across Lavender’s body. She’s curled on her side, facing the door. Most of her covers have been kicked off, and her bare legs are stretched out across pale sheets.
Her long hair fans out in a chaotic wave across her pillow, one arm stretched toward the door, palm up. I don’t understand how after all this time I can still feel the same unbearable pull. For years I’ve had to build walls and detach myself from her, from all the bad choices we made as kids. All the bad choices I made. All it takes is seeing her and the sound of my name to storm the gates and force me to my knees.
I don’t realize I’ve moved until the floor creaks under my foot. I’m halfway into the room when Lavender shoots up in bed. She sucks in a gasping breath, and her eyes dart around. She was always a light sleeper—unless she’d had a particularly severe panic attack; then she could sleep like the dead. A full-on party could happen around her, and she wouldn’t move for hours.
“Hello?” Her voice is thick with sleep. She squints and leans toward the nightstand, patting around for her glasses. I use the momentary distraction to step back into the hall, pulling the door closed behind me.
I don’t stick around to see what she’s going to do next. Instead, I rush to the end of the hall, to the last empty bedroom on this floor. The comforter is already rumpled, telling me I’m not the first person to use this room tonight.
I close the door, yank my shirt over my head, and shove my jeans down my legs. I pull the covers down and slip between them, slamming my head against the pillow. “So fucking stupid.”
I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, creeping on Lavender. It doesn’t serve a purpose, other than to make me more aware that I’m not even remotely over losing her.
I stare up at the ceiling, adjusting to the inky darkness and trying to calm my heart and my breathing. A chandelier hangs above my head, teardrop crystals glinting despite the minimal light. I focus on those, on taming the panic over my reckless actions.
The sound of footfalls in the hallway spikes my already-frantic heart rate. I don’t breathe as I wait, unsure if I’m hearing things now. I swear I can feel her on the other side. The doorknob turns, and long seconds pass before the door creaks open.