Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
One look.
One touch.
It always felt as if I were on the cusp of splintering apart and coming undone. I’d assumed it was all one sided.
Turns out I was wrong.
He felt it, too.
I shake my head to clear the thoughts. “Why now? Why bother saying anything when we’re so close to graduating and going our separate ways?”
The silence that stretches between us becomes almost unbearable. It makes my skin prickle with awareness as the air in the vehicle turns oppressive.
“Because it’s exhausting to keep everything buried deep inside and continue acting like I don’t like you when nothing could be further from the truth. Not only couldn’t I do it anymore, but I didn’t want to. I have no idea if it’s too late, but you needed to know that my behavior didn’t have anything to do with you.”
It takes effort to blink away the wetness filling my eyes. “You really hurt me, Crosby.” There is so much emotion inside me, fighting to break free. “All those nasty comments and the looks…”
“I know.” His voice turns raspy. “I fucking hate myself for putting you through that. If I could go back and do it all differently, I would.”
He pulls my face closer until his minty breath can ghost over my parted lips. After everything he’s put me through, it doesn’t make sense that all I want to do is close my eyes and inhale a giant lungful of him.
A fine tremble wracks my body. His closeness has always had the power to make me feel weak. After everything he’s divulged, that hasn’t changed. In this moment, as our breath continues to mingle, becoming one, all I can think about is his mouth coasting over mine, forcing me to forget the ugliness of our past.
“I realize that I’m asking for a lot, but give me a chance to prove I’m not the guy you think I am. One chance is all I need.”
Unable to hold his gaze any longer, I squeeze my eyes closed as his words circle viciously through my brain. “I don’t know. I need some time.” Time away from him to clear my head. That’s not possible when he’s invading my space.
“Whatever you want, I’ll give you.”
Another thought pops into my head. “And what about Andrew? What would he say if he knew?”
Even if I were to forgive him, there’s his best friend to consider.
“We both know he’d be pissed off,” he reluctantly admits.
That’s an understatement.
“Yes,” I agree, “he would. Maybe you need to think about that before this goes any further.”
Guilt flickers across his face as he shakes his head. “Don’t you understand that it’s all I’ve been able to focus on? I’ve done everything in my power to stay away from you, and I can’t do it any longer.”
When he drags me to him for a second time, I flatten my palms against his chest to keep him at a firm distance. It takes effort to pull away, but I’m afraid of what will happen if I don’t. I’m precariously close to shattering into a million jagged pieces.
Without a word, my fingers fumble for the door handle before popping it open. Cool air fills the car as I drag in a cleansing breath, hoping it will settle everything rampaging dangerously inside me. As I step from the vehicle and onto the pavement, I slam the door closed, only to find Crosby waiting for me near the hood of his Mustang. I release the pent-up breath held captive in my lungs.
I have no idea if it’s possible for us to move forward. What I realize as our gazes cling is that he doesn’t just want to wipe the slate clean and be my friend.
He wants more.
24
BROOKE
After forty-five minutes on the road, I pull into the winding, tree-lined driveway of the stone mansion Garret moved us into after he and Mom got married. The place is over ten thousand square feet of sprawling space.
The first few times I explored the palatial estate, I got lost in the maze of ornately decorated hallways and gigantic rooms. They all bear a striking resemblance to one another with my stepfather’s highly coveted art collection displayed throughout most of it. Sculptures and busts are prominently showcased on pedestals. This place is more museum than home, and it’s a far cry from the tiny shoebox we came from. There’s an Olympic-sized pool in the backyard next to a perfectly pruned English garden complete with spectacular fountain. It’s all a little surreal. Even with the massive workout room in the basement and spa-like amenities, I still prefer the house I spent most of my childhood in.
Once the Volkswagen is parked, I take a moment to steel myself for the handful of hours I’ll have to spend socializing before escaping back to campus. My silent pep talk is interrupted when the driver’s side door is yanked open, and a valet outfitted in tux-like garb impatiently waits for me to vacate the vehicle.