Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
I think that was the final straw. Dean will never want me again.
That should make me happy, considering what my only goal is. The one thing I’ve wanted for so long. This arrangement is the best scenario. Available. Vulnerable. And the reputation of a slut. Easy. It would be all too easy.
As I pour the mostly empty bottle into the glass, I wonder if I’m crazy. The plan was crazy from the beginning, certainly not something a sane person would do. I knew that.
Then again, not many people would remain sane after seeing what I saw and knowing what I know.
Tragedies happen, but usually there’s justice. A villain you can blame and prosecute.
When the villain gets off scot-free and destroys your life forever, that does something to a person. When he walks away unscathed and blends into a crowd that looks back at you like you’re the one who’s in the wrong.
It’s even worse when you played a part in the wreckage and the small pieces that were shattered turn to ashes in your hands. You’ll make all sorts of promises then. Promises to make wrongs right. At any cost.
“Whatever it takes,” I whisper and lift the wine to my lips, drinking it in large gulps.
I barely taste it although the sweetness turns bitter quickly as it sits on my tongue.
It’s a good thing I pushed Dean away, I think. He deserves so much better.
The bottle clinks and the sound resonates in the kitchen as I set it down. There wasn’t even enough left to fill the glass.
One hand holds the wine, while the other picks up my phone.
I will him to text me, but nothing happens.
Slipping onto the stool, I lay my cheek down on the cold granite and stare at my phone. I scroll through our messages; I even laugh once or twice, even though it’s a sad sound. These texts are proof that at one point I was happy.
I’m sorry. I text him, unable to keep myself from doing it. I’m sorrier than he’ll ever know.
I glance around this place and hate that I’m even here. The sickness that’s been in the bottom of my gut for so long begins to creep up.
I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t want to do this.
It all hurts too much. But I’m so close to the edge. If only I can just hold on.
I’m so close to keeping a promise I never thought I could.
I drown my self-pity in the wine, throwing it back and trying to block out the images that keep coming back to me, but I have to stop when I hear a loud knock at the door. My eyes fly to the screen of my phone, the message marked as read.
Dean.
My feet trip over one another and I nearly fall in my desperation to get to the door. I’ll tell him. I’ll confess and he’ll save me. God help me please, because I don’t know what to do anymore.
With a racing heart and nearly breathless, I whip open the front door, not bothering to check to see who it is.
It’s not Dean and my heart slows, as does time.
I guess this was what he needed. It’s what he was waiting for.
A weakness leading to a way in.
I knew I was close to the edge, but I wasn’t ready to jump. I guess I would never have jumped, though; it was all about being pushed.
I swallow the lump growing in my throat. “Kevin.” I say his name out loud. This is the second time I’ve talked to him. Other than that night six years ago at Mike’s house. I thought it would have taken more to lure him in. I didn’t even try yet. I was still setting up the dominoes.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him, trying to hide the swell of anger … and fear. My knuckles turn white as I grip the doorknob harder. “How did you know my address?” I ask him as it registers that I never told him. I’d planned on it, of course. My heart beats harder as I think about how this is exactly what I wanted. But not right now. Not like this.
I can barely breathe as he tells me, “I saw you walk home the other night from the frat house. It’s not too far away.”
It’s not. I rented this place just for that reason. I didn’t realize he’d noticed. I thought I’d have to tell him.
“I was just dropping by to check on you,” he says and then looks to his right and left. “You alone?” he asks.
I don’t want to tell him I am but I nod once regardless. That’s what a good victim would do. The perfect victim for him.
This is what I came here for. The entire reason I came to this town, this university.