Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
The following Monday, Nick finds me before chemistry, right in between lab and class. I didn’t even think he knew what class I was in before public speaking. Hell, I didn’t even think he’d want to talk to me, given how little we’ve said to each other these past few months.
He peers his head into the classroom, waving me out into the hall. I’m happy for the distraction. Anything is better than sitting in this room with him, the one I can’t stop dreaming about and wanting so hopelessly.
I hate how I feel his eyes on me as I walked out the door, and I keep thinking about this eyes and how we sat on that piano bench.
“Um, I was wondering if you had a date to prom yet?” Nick asks, and I’m suddenly no longer so thrilled with the diversion. My body tenses, knowing that if I looked over my shoulder, my teacher would be there in the doorway, hovering.
“Luci, the bell is about ring,” his firm voice makes me jump. It’s the first time in almost two weeks since I’ve heard him say my name.
It doesn’t sound like him, it’s too sad.
“But it hasn’t yet,” Nick argues. I don’t look his way to see if he’s still there as I answer.
“I’m not going.”
“Luci!” Nick protests, his voice rising about a million octaves. “You have to go to your prom!”
“Well, I’m not,” I shrug. “It was nice of you to ask, though, so thank you.” I think back to when Chloe and I walked through the mall shopping for clothes back in August. We were already eyeing prom dresses, feeling the brightly colored fabrics and admiring their shiny details, eagerly awaiting this rite of passage. We guessed who the king and queen will be, and of course our dates, laughing over our crazy scenarios.
I watch as Nick retreats down the hall, meeting his eyes as I head back into the classroom. I can’t help but think back to what Gracie said to me all those months ago. How I was too far gone, and that was even before things got physical.
Some people fall in love at eighteen, and I guess I’m just one of them. Sometimes it lasts forever, and sometimes it ruins you. But that’s what love does, right? It makes you wish and hope for impossible things.
It’s getting warmer outside, and with today’s random hot temperature; I wear a cute, blue, sporty dress with sneakers. It’s a little on the summery side, with short sleeves and an unusually short cut, even for me. Even though it hugs my body, it’s nowhere near slutty or too tight.
I bought it a while ago, because the color reminded me of his eyes. I loved how the zipper runs all the way from the top to bottom, laughing in the middle of the store, already thinking about what he’d do. He always said he couldn’t wait for the warmer weather and skimpier clothes.
How stupid.
My car doesn’t start right away, and Dad has to jump it, causing Gracie and I miss first period, signing in a few minutes into second.
I pass the gym, where I’m supposed to be, and I find myself at his door. I know he’s in the middle of class, but I stand there, listening to his voice. The urge to talk to him, to physically be with him again, conquering me.
I act completely on adrenaline and impulse as I run to my locker and scour the bottom for anything I can find - this pin will do. I then grab a sheet of paper and head to the bathroom.
Five minutes later, I’m back at his door. I take a deep breath, my heart shattering as I hear his voice telling me to come in. Everyone’s eyes briefly focus on me before returning to their daily quizzes. I watch as he swallows hard, his eyes widening as they move up and down my body, slowly taking me all in.
There’s agony, stress, and the blue in them isn’t as bright as it used to be.
“Sorry,” I clear my throat. “I just need something from you quickly.”
I approach his desk, my back to the class as I start to slowly unzip the top of my dress. He looks back and forth, from the class, to my zipper, watching me, as I move it lower and lower. His eyes look like he’s seeing paradise, and I remind myself that this is not what it’s about. I can give myself this as long as I don’t think.
He swallows hard again, as his gaze lands on my cleavage. I continue tugging the zipper down until I reveal my note.
Your office. Two minutes.
I don’t know if he’ll come, but the desire and longing in his eyes as I quietly zip back up gives me the confidence I need to stroll out and to his office and wait.