Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
The paparazzi continue to flash photos, then quickly get in their own van and follow them. “They’re gone.” It comes out like a breathy whisper.
“No.” Sookie still hasn’t let go. “I think they’re still around the corner.”
He pulls my head back down.
I cling to his shirt and give myself an extra ten seconds.
I even count them in my head.
One. His teeth tug at my bottom lip.
Two. His hands move to my hair digging in, slightly pulling.
Three. One of his hands slides behind my neck and cups it, his fingers burn where he touches my skin.
Four. His kiss deepens before he pulls away and starts slow nibbles down my neck that send shivers down my spine.
Five. He makes his way back up to my chin, then pulls away, his brown eyes take a complete choke hold, making it impossible for me to look anywhere else.
Six. It’s almost over.
Seven. He’s sad. And so am I.
Eight. Slowly, I pull away and adjust my clothes.
Nine. His hands drop to his sides.
Ten. We put the chasm of space between us again.
His mask is back on both figuratively and physically, he straightens his shirt, and folds his hands as I sit next to him.
And then, like a professional who has no business being in that back seat, I open the car door, look around again, and walk to the elevators and press the up button.
He dashes out of the car and nearly face dives into the elevator, and as the doors close, I could swear I see a tear slip past his mask, dropping to the floor.
My heart burns in my chest.
He doesn’t know the worst part of all of this—I feel like a cheater, and I don’t even know if I’m cheating on someone else or myself?
But, Sookie has to know soon.
I have to let him go.
I have to.
Otherwise I never will, and it’s not fair to him.
To either of us.
I slowly walk back to my car and get in. I try not to look at the bag of left over food he just ate. The one I gave him. I take a deep breath as my phone rings, and hit answer on my steering wheel.
“Yes?”
“Meeting in an hour with TestME.”
“I’ll be there, Siu, thanks.”
“Everything okay? You sound out of breath? Are you sick?”
The owner of the label put his idols and employees before everything, of course he’d ask if I was sick having no clue I was just in the back seat of my car with one of his most famous idols. “No. I’m completely fine. I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“Sounds good, and remember this group is—we’re going to need the contracts to be ironclad, especially with the show coming up.”
“Understood.”
“See you soon.” He’s off the phone, and I’m still staring at the trash on the floor of my car, kind of feeling like I want to crawl inside it and cry.
I look in the mirror, fix my lipstick, take off my hat, put on my sunglasses, and I pull my car out as if nothing happened.
When my heart pounds against my chest, I know I can’t fight it.
“…But it did.”
Chapter Three
Sookie
I keep my head down as I walk down the small hall and type in the passcode to our dorm.
When I walk in I suddenly panic realizing I still have the Yankees hat on and quickly toss it in one of the hall closets before kicking off my shoes and putting on my slippers.
Nobody seems to be in the main part of the living room so I take off my mask, shove it in my pocket and walk into the kitchen for some water.
I’m definitely thirsty after that interaction.
My adrenaline is at an all-time high while my heart feels at an all-time low. It’s a weird feeling, like someone drugged me and I’m craving more. Maybe that’s why people get addicted, the thrill of it all, the confusion, the demons, the lingering.
The wanting.
The need.
The fucking need.
I nearly run into Lucas, as he’s coming out of the piano room, when he tilts his head at me and narrows his eyes. “What?”
He lets out a sigh, grabs me by the wrist before I can grab a bottle of water from the fridge and pulls me into the bathroom by the studio and slams the door.
“Can I help you?” I cross my arms.
He crosses his.
What the hell is going on?
With a curse, he turns me toward the mirror.
Stunned, I say nothing. My lips are smudged with pink lipstick and I can’t hide my expression of guilt any more than I can hide the lipstick on my face.
“Who is it?” He demands. “And you know if Rae see’s this he’s going to flip his shit so at least confide in me so you’re smarter about it and not just parading around in Chanel.”
“It wasn’t Chanel.”
His glare through the mirror says it all. His red hair’s a tousled mess, and he’s wearing blue contacts. Maybe he had a shoot earlier? I wouldn’t know. Sometimes we just stay in costume if we have them for a few days, makes it easier.