Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 120326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
At this Robert lets out a delighted chuckle. “His thing? Have you ever seen a man’s thing in the flesh, Lana?”
I give him a warning stare, and he sobers up.
“I’ll admit that sex is a pretty big part of the myths,” I go on. “Those Greeks had some seriously dirty minds. But no, you’ll be disappointed to learn that’s not what I’m writing my thesis on. I actually haven’t settled on a subject yet. I’ve had several theories accepted by my supervisor, but I don’t know, none of them feel exactly...right. It’s frustrating, because I feel like what I truly want to write about is on the tip of my tongue, hovering just outside my reach. Sometimes I almost grasp it, but then I lose it again. You know what I mean?”
I realise I’ve been gesturing with my hands when I look back at Robert. His eyes take me in, as though fascinated. I always get a little overly animated when I start talking about my subject. I can’t help it; these things just excite me.
Robert clears his throat with a cough, then says, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
A silence ensues as I finish up with the bandage. I tie a little knot and cut off the end of the roll. Then I stand up and go to rinse my hands in the sink. Once I’m done I turn back to Robert, who’s still sitting on the edge of the tub, looking at me.
“I better get back downstairs and let you go, uh, grab a clean shirt. Gary left two big suitcases full of your stuff in the hall, by the way.”
Robert sighs. “Yeah, I saw. And thanks...for the bandage.”
I nod, giving him one last glance, and then leave the room. Well, that was different. My stomach rushes with shallow victory as I hear his words echo in my head: You were always something, but you really did turn into a swan, didn’t you, Lana?
If I was always something, then why did he make me feel so ugly? I don’t get it.
But it does make me feel good to know that he sees me now, sees the pretty girl who evolved out of the awkward, shy, redheaded teenager. Unfortunately, the victory doesn’t feel quite as triumphant as I thought it would – aspirational disappointment at its finest. Now a brand-new feeling is stirring in my belly: want. I can’t deny that I like how he looks at me, and I want more of it. More of his soft words and heated stares.
God, for all I know this could be a ruse. Perhaps he’s only acting nice to break down my defences so that he can play the ultimate game. A game that will crush my heart. The idea makes my throat run dry.
I decide I should keep my distance from him, emotionally if not physically. Allowing Robert to get inside my head (and, God forbid, my affections) will only end in disaster. It always has. Over the years we had a few brief periods of getting along (mostly for Sasha’s sake), but he always broke them by either humiliating me in front of his friends or telling me to get lost once he grew tired of my company.
When I get back downstairs, everyone has gathered in the dining room, sitting around the ultra-modern glass and steel dinner table. I take a seat beside Sasha, who’s having an animated debate with Victor and Jacob about some Hollywood actor who was nominated for an Oscar last year but didn’t win. I sit quietly and listen while my eyes slowly drift to Kara.
She’s sitting between Gary and Alistair, laughing at something Sandra just said. About ten minutes later Robert comes into the room, carrying a glass of scotch. The conversation dies down, with everyone wondering if he’ll lash out at Kara again. He doesn’t, though. He simply sits down in the last empty seat, which happens to be right beside me.
I notice that he’s changed out of Sasha’s clothes and is now wearing a shirt and slacks. The top few buttons of the shirt are undone, revealing his collarbone. My eyes linger in that spot for a moment before I look away.
When it seems like Robert is going to behave himself, the tension in the room settles. He sips silently on his drink, occasionally shooting daggers at Kara or rolling his eyes whenever Gary says something.
After a while he leans in close to me so that his elbow brushes against my arm. “Are you on Facebook, Lana?” he asks, his voice low.
I turn to see him with his iPhone in his hand.
“Um, yeah, I am. Why?”
“I’m going to add you. What do you go by on there, Lana Sweeney or something else?”
“It’s Lana S. But there’s no need to add me. I’m hardly ever online.”
He taps my screen name into his phone and smirks. “That doesn’t matter. I just want to look through your pictures.”
I stare at him. “You want to look through my pictures?”
His smirk turns into a grin. “Yeah. Ah, there you are. Oh, look at your profile picture. It’s very...pure. I like it.”
I glance over his shoulder at my photo. My mum took it about a year ago on the beach. I’m looking into the distance, and my hair is blowing away from my face. The light of the sun makes my blue eyes stand out. It’s actually one of Sasha’s favourites; that’s why I picked it.
“Right, I’ve added you,” says Robert. “The next time you’re online you need to accept the friendship.”
“I will if you’ll tell me why you want to look at my pictures.”
He shoves his phone back in his pocket and stares at me. “You’ve got an...addictive sort of face. I hope you have lots of photos up because I plan on looking at you from all different angles.” On the surface his words are harmless, and I could be wrong, but the way he says them sounds kind of sexual.
“That’s really weird, Rob. In fact, I don’t like the idea of you looking at my photos at all. I’m not accepting that friend request.”