Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 49949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
I can’t decipher if he’s hurt or annoyed about the incorrect conclusion he has jumped to. I hold my hand up, cutting him off quickly.
“Of course I want to be around you. I’m nervous because… well…” I balance my weight from one foot to the other. “Are you mad at me?”
Kane looks around us as if he’s making sure no one is watching us. He places his hand on the back of my neck and looks directly into my eyes. His skin is warm as he squeezes his hand around the base of my neck soothingly, almost giving me a massage.
“Rey, you can put a stop to this. Just give me back my journal.”
“And if I don’t?”
Kane’s nostrils flare as he lets out a heavy sigh.
“Then I guess I know what we’re doing this weekend…”
He tries to hide the smirk on his face, but I know he wants this. He wants me. I run my fingers underneath his jacket to feel his chest, but he grabs my hand.
“Not here. Too risky. Let’s go,” he nods toward the car.
We get in the Mustang and start our drive to Fields University, which is about an hour away. At first there’s an awkward silence, but I decide it needs to be broken. I’m not sitting in the car with Kane for an hour and pretending he doesn’t exist, that it’s not eating me up inside not knowing what he’s thinking.
“So… are you mad?” I ask, since he never actually answered that question.
Kane flashes a smile at me and laughs.
“What do you think?”
“I have no idea. You’re hard to read.”
“Let’s say the situation was the other way around. What if I were blackmailing you to have sex with me? How would you feel?”
“Honestly?” I ask.
Kane nods his head, glancing over at me but keeping an eye on the road.
“I would be happy to comply,” I say, not able to contain the silly smile on my face.
Kane and I both laugh as we stop at a red light.
“So, to answer your question… I’m not mad, even if I should be. How can I be mad at you for making my fantasies come true?”
He looks over at me with this sexy look on his face. We lock eyes until the car behind us beeps their horn. Kane hits the gas, and I realize we need to change the subject if we’re going to make it to Fields University in time for the tour.
Kane turns on the radio to a classic rock station. Tom Petty is on, and we both sing along at the top of our lungs. Moments like these aren’t unusual for us.
Classic rock is my favorite musical genre, and it’s all Kane Forrester’s fault. He always listened to Tom Petty, The Eagles, and Bruce Springsteen around me. When I showed interest in his music, he got me a record player with an entire collection of vinyl albums for me to listen to.
“Remember when you took me to my first concert?” I ask over the music.
Kane turns down the radio and smiles.
“Journey was awesome. Too bad you didn’t get to see Steve Perry with them. What… were you thirteen?”
“Yeah, and we slow danced to ‘Open Arms’.”
A grin takes over my face at the memory. I was in heaven that night. At thirteen, it was the closest I’d come to a date. Shit, at eighteen, it’s still the closest thing I’ve ever had to a date.
Kane smiles at me. “That’s our song.”
A blush comes over my cheeks, and I lean over to turn the radio up again, not wanting him to see the dorky look on my face. The next forty minutes fly by while we sing along to the radio and make small talk.
The fall foliage on the trees along the highway make the drive scenic, and I can’t help but think that today is a perfect day. Just Kane, me, and great music. It’s a shame that all of this stupid school stuff has to ruin it.
Fields University comes into view; it looks like a typical college campus. Grassy knolls broken up with pathways leading to different buildings. A tall clock tower on what appears to be the main building on campus.
We stop at a booth that sits in front of the parking lot. A short, stocky man steps out as Kane rolls down his window.
“We’re here for a visitor’s tour,” Kane informs him. “We’re looking for Prescott Hall.”
“See that building with the clock tower?” the man points behind him. “Right inside there. I’ll give you a visitor’s pass for your car.”
After getting the pass, Kane finds a parking spot and sticks it in the window. Strapping my purse across my chest, I open the car door and get out.
The campus is crawling with kids in flip-flops and shorts that contrast with their warm, hooded sweatshirts. The hair on all of the girls is tossed up into a messy top-knot, and the boys either have hats on or messy hair like they just woke up.