Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
I reached out to touch his hand. “Don’t be. I… I wanted you to kiss me.”
He smiled at that.
“But,” I added quickly. “I’m not yours to kiss.”
It was easier than telling him that once he had kissed me, I hadn’t liked it.
He frowned, but nodded. “I understand.”
A moment of awkward silence passed between us before I stood, swiping my phone off the table and tucking it in the pocket of my hoodie. “I’ll text you,” I promised.
And then before he could say anything else, I left.
I was numb as I walked the few blocks back to my place, unable to even shiver against the cool fog that had settled over the city. Groups of students laughing and going out for the night stumbled past me like I was invisible, and that was exactly how I felt.
How I’d always felt.
It was a pathetic sentiment, one that wasn’t warranted after having a very hot, very desired musician practically throw himself at me. I should have felt honored, should have been reveling in how badly he wanted me, in how he would have taken me if I’d only let him.
But the fact remained that he wasn’t who I wanted to want me.
To Clay, I was just a tool, a ploy in his plot to get Maliyah back. And I couldn’t even be mad at him, because I’d jumped headfirst into his offer to help me get Shawn because Clay wasn’t even on my radar then. Shawn was all I’d wanted, all I’d fantasized about.
How foolish of me to not remember that when Clay was holding me, when he was touching me, kissing me.
I was an absolute idiot, acting like I was the main character in some stupid romance novel instead of remembering that I was just the weird, nerdy girl trying to fake it.
Trying to fake everything.
I faked that I was confident enough to be a public relations associate, faked that I was Clay’s girlfriend, faked that I didn’t feel anything when he undressed me, when his mouth and hands brought me pleasure I’d never known in my life.
I faked that I didn’t care about him, that I wanted Maliyah to come back into his life, that I wanted to help that happen.
I had been living one giant lie for months.
And now, I had no idea who I was.
I dragged my feet as I rounded the last corner that led to my block, digging in my pocket for my key. I was too busy staring at the sidewalk that I didn’t notice that I wasn’t alone until I was at the edge of my stoop.
And a large pair of white Allbird sneakers came into view.
My heart stopped in my chest at the sight of them, at the dark gray joggers that cuffed at the ankle of legs I could draw blind, I knew them so well now. I clutched my key in my hand as my eyes trailed up those sweats, the NBU Football sweater, and finally, to Clay’s face.
His miserable, tortured face.
I couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything other than watch where his knee bounced, his clasped hands balancing over it wrung together like he was a man on the edge of breaking. His nose flared, red eyes taking in the length of me like he was looking for something he couldn’t find even with a magnifying glass.
“How did it go?”
His question surprised me, especially with how slow and achingly it came from his lips. It was barely a croak, like the words had burned his esophagus on the way out.
“Honestly?” I asked on a slow breath. “Awful.”
Clay didn’t show any emotional response to that.
“I mean, he tried,” I clarified. “I… I got what I wanted, I guess. But I just…” I paused, stomach rolling painfully at the truth I wasn’t brave enough to say. “It felt off. It felt… wrong.”
I stared at my shoes, at Clay’s, at his hands that were still white-knuckled.
After a long moment, I managed a swallow, pulling my gaze to meet his. “Why are you here?” I whispered.
I swore I saw a world war raging behind his eyes, heard gunshots and bombs exploding as he battled with whatever was on his mind. It was like he was on the precipice of deciding whether he wanted to say it or keep it inside forever.
And then, he looked at me, Adam’s apple bobbing hard in his throat before he dared to push forward.
“I couldn’t eat,” he started, knee still bouncing. “Couldn’t train, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t do anything other than make myself sick thinking about him touching you.”
My breath caught at the need, at the pure, desperate possession that rolled off his tongue along with those words.
“I tried to pull my head out of my ass, to remind myself that this was what you wanted, what we both have been playing this game for.” Clay shook his head. “But it was useless.”