Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105815 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105815 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
I know that look. It says, I’ll do whatever it takes to get him.
Why did he come here?
What the hell is he trying to prove?
Why isn’t he with Anastasia?
Another thought sneaks in. What am I willing to do to get what I want?
“You can’t,” I snarl into the night. “Let. Her. Go.”
Yeah? Yeah? the dark side of me whispers.
Aren’t you sick of waiting?
On Wednesday, I follow her to the elevator. We don’t speak. She walks into class ahead of me and takes her regular seat. I take my seat behind her and watch like I always do. I stare hard, wondering if she feels it. When she talks in class, I hang on every word. When she plays with her hair, twisting the strands, my fingers twitch. As soon as class is over, without a glance over her shoulder at me or Benji, she dashes out of the lecture hall.
Thank fuck. I don’t want to be near her.
I hate how she makes me feel.
By the time Friday rolls around, my resolve has stalled and rolled off a cliff. I dreamed about her. Nothing sexual (thank you for small mercies), but a replay of our conversation in her kitchen, her hands touching my lips, her goofy questions, the way she rambled about her childhood.
I wait in the lobby for her to arrive then trail her to the elevator.
There’s nothing wrong with it. Just don’t touch.
She gets on and I follow, my eyes on my phone.
Pretending.
I’m cool.
I’m cool.
She’s wearing a tight green dress that hugs her curves and hits a few inches below her ass. Black tights are on her legs. Heeled thigh-high boots on her feet. Her lavender hair is down, long and straight as it brushes her back.
My throat dries.
I shift around in the small space, easing the thickness in my jeans.
Her lips are a deep red, a hint that she’s in a ‘mood.’ I recall one of her moods. She and Donovan had a tiff at the house once because she brought Lila and Colette to a party. I happened to overhear it when I walked past his room. I watched her storm out, slam his door, then jerk out her lipstick and roll it on her full lips. Then, she stomped away. Lipstick is her armor when things are going to hell.
She huffs and slaps the button for our floor then sends me a long look, or I think she does, based on the reflection in the mirrored walls. She picks up her phone. “Hey, you.” She laughs low and husky, the sound skating down my spine. “You did? Oh, stop it, you’re making me blush. Oh? A big one? You’re teasing me.” Her voice lowers. “You should get dressed. I know, I know, it’s hard. Okay, I have to go. Class. Bye, baby boy.”
A silence settles in the elevator as she hums “Apple Bottom Jeans.”
My eyes narrow. “Who was that?”
“Hmmm? Sorry. Are you talking to me?” She checks her chipped nail polish.
“Who’s baby boy?”
“My nephew.” She brushes unseen lint off her dress.
“You don’t have siblings.”
“Don’t I?” She shrugs. “Family can be anyone.”
“You said you have no real family but your parents.”
“Oh, that. I barely recall you being at my house.” Her green eyes finally meet mine and my body tightens.
“Don’t believe you, Anastasia.”
“Am I a hurricane today? Do you feel calm…right now?”
“As it happens, I do not.” My hands clench. “I have a lot on my mind.”
The doors open on the second floor, and Audrey, Mellany, and Harper get on as a wave of perfume drifts in. They rush around me, but my eyes are on her.
She smirks and sticks her tongue out at me. Then she mouths something inaudible, and dammit, I can’t read lips. She makes a gagging expression as Audrey plasters herself against me and hangs on my arm.
That little… My lips twitch. She’s fucking with me.
Audrey’s talking about the party and What should I wear, River? like I care, and I nod in all the right places but can’t stop glancing at Anastasia. What will she do next? She’s a little unpredictable, to be honest.
The girls bombard me with compliments I barely hear (I don’t buy it, never have) then with questions. Do I have a date for the party? No. Do I want to go with them as a group? Sorry, I’m hanging with my guys. Am I going on the ski trip? Yeah. They make a plan for us to hang out on the slopes. I give a noncommittal reply, my fingers twisting my ring like crazy.
They get off on their floor, and I don’t miss when Harper flashes her bracelet at us. Just before the door shuts, I hear her say, “Girls, Ana didn’t get into Harvard and I did.” She lets out a tinkling laugh and says more, but the sound disappears as the doors snick closed.