Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
“I’ve been hired to keep you safe.”
“To keep my parents’ reputation safe,” I clarify.
“You,” he repeats, turning his head to face me as he slows at a red light. “I’m not here for them, Remington. I’m here for you.”
“Me,” I muse, breaking eye contact because looking at him while he’s so serious makes my head spin.
“If you want to leave the house in the middle of the night, just wake me up and I’ll go with you. If you want to run around New York, just tell me and I’ll make arrangements for you to do so safely. If you want a little danger, I know a company that will abduct you all the while keeping you safe. There are ways to get your thrills without putting yourself in harm’s way.”
My jaw drops. “Things like that exist?”
“Safe adrenaline rushes?” He scoffs. “Of course it does.”
I don’t know how to explain that it’s attention I’m after. I don’t want to pay someone to give me thrills. I want someone in my life that wants to be there, someone that shows me attention because they need the same from me. Someone who is around by choice, not because they’re being paid to be there. Just feeling this way makes me feel desperate and pitiful.
Conversation dries up as I get lost in thoughts of what it would feel like to be wanted by anyone with sincerity. Not particularly in a sexual way, but just a friend who doesn’t expect anything from me. Someone who smiles when they hear my name and wants to call me the minute something exciting happens in their life.
“Interested?”
I jolt from my thoughts at the sound of his voice. “What?”
He points to the building in front of my parked car. “Think you can handle it?”
The marque on the side of the old building touts a horror movie marathon, and a slow smile spreads across my face.
“I love scary movies.”
I hate scary movies. Since I’m always alone, lost in my own head, watching things that traumatize people are no fun for me, but I’d never admit it out loud. I’ve spent the last couple of days pretending to be brave and unstoppable around this man, and now isn’t the time to stop.
“If you’re too scared, I’ll understand.”
“Scared?” I scoff. “I’m not scared.”
“Let’s go then.”
I climb out of the car before he can make it around to my side, ignoring the frown on his pretty lips.
He pays for our tickets at the counter, adding two large drinks and a bucket of popcorn without even asking, placing it on the armrest between us when we settle into our seats. The theater is nearly empty but I wouldn’t expect any less this late in the evening on a Wednesday night, especially in a dated theater showing decades-old movies back-to-back.
The first movie isn’t so bad, and I’m having enough fun that when I excuse myself to use the restroom, I find myself actually returning to the theater and sitting down beside him.
The second movie on the other hand hits a little closer to home, and I’m tense from the opening scene. The woman running for her life through the darkness is enough to prevent me from pulling another stunt like last night.
I screech when the killer jumps out and tackles her to the ground. Flynn doesn’t laugh at me or tease me for being a pansy. He simply places his palm on my bouncing knee and continues to watch the movie.
He hasn’t touched the popcorn, and he’s barely sipped from his soda since we sat down.
Heat radiates from his palm, and although it’s a simple, non-sexual touch, it does make me feel safer.
The credits roll without him pulling his hand back, and when I look over at him, it’s easy to see how exhausted he is.
“Wanna watch the next one?” he asks, his voice slow and tired.
“There’s more?” I turn to face him, careful not to shift the weight of my lower body so he doesn’t feel obligated to pull his hand back.
“They’re showing movies back-to-back through the end of the weekend, but the tickets are only good if we stay.”
“I’m tired.” He blinks, his eyes slow to reopen, and it’s clear that he’s losing energy fast. “But I don’t want to go home.”
His fingers flex and the next second he pulls his hand away.
“We could get a hotel room.”
“Remi.” He shakes his head, the movement looking like it takes a lot of effort.
God, I love the abbreviation of my name coming from a man so serious all the time.
“Not for that. I just don’t want to go home. There’s a nice hotel four blocks up. We don’t even have to move the car.”
That’s the great thing about New York, everything is within walking distance when you’re in the city.
“Think you can walk a couple blocks?”