Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Dove’s mouth clamps shut. I feel like I’m losing her. Lacing my fingers in hers and playing them like a piano, I peer into her face. “Forget our families. My mom. What other people think. Forget about The Night We Don’t Talk About. About the world. About expectations. How do you feel about me?”
And I can feel her wanting to tell me the truth. It’s on the tip of her tongue.
Our fingers curl and twist around one another. It’s our thing. We always play each other like pianos.
“I…I love you,” she chokes out.
But she already said that and I need more. “Love me or are in love with me?”
“I don’t know.”
NO, BAILEY. THE CORRECT ANSWER IS “BOTH.”
“Do you want to try to figure that out?” My gaze clings to her face desperately.
She looks up, shaking her head with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I think I’m the problem. I’ve treated you like a brother for too long to make you my boyfriend. I’m sorry.”
I close my eyes and inhale through my nose.
Fuck. Twelve dogs.
Thirty-six shits a day.
This is gonna suck so hard.
CHAPTER 11
Lev
A few months later
“Would you throw a fit if I hook up with Declan Abela?” Grim takes a pull of his beer as we sit on the edge of Austin’s pool.
To say the party is weird is the understatement of the century. “Victim in Pain” by Agnostic Front rages through the surround system, making the ground shake. Austin is balls deep in this anarcho-punk chick these days. He put her in charge of the playlist, and it’s all Dead Kennedys and Anti-Flag and nobody is dancing and everyone is tanked, so he just feeds us more alcohol and weed so we’ll forget about the music.
I don’t even know why I’m here. I hate Austin. Maybe because everything tastes like nothing ever since Bailey left. At least when I’m surrounded by people, I can pretend I’m not alone.
I think I’m on my third bottle, which is way too much for me.
But this is what happens when your heart is broken and the girl you love is not your girl nor your friend anymore.
“Stop flirting with me,” I murmur into my beer bottle in a deadpan.
Grim snorts. “You wish. Answer the question, asshat.”
“Why would I be mad?” I drawl, knocking back the last of my beer and accepting whatever’s left of Grim’s bottle. Grim came out of the closet to me two weeks ago.
No, that’s not true. He didn’t come out of anywhere. It was me who barged into his shit with the finesse of a circus clown. I had stopped by his house to give him his wallet that he forgot in my car. When I walked into his room, I found him trying to scoop some dude’s tonsils with his pierced tongue.
“Didn’t see anything.” I had tossed his wallet on the dresser, unsure if he was open about his sexuality or not.
“That’s because I haven’t dropped my pants yet. You know my dick is monstrous.” Grim had laughed into his kiss with the dude. “I’m not in the closet.”
“Oh.” File under: stupid shit that comes out of my mouth.
Guess technically he wasn’t, since he always made comments about dudes and girls. And I just thought he was being…I dunno, progressive? Edgy?
“I’m not gay.” His hand slid under the guy’s shirt and it was obvious he couldn’t give half a shit about being caught.
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “Clearly.”
He laughed. “I’m bisexual. And you’re staring. So kindly get the fuck out.”
Now he’s asking me if I care if he hooks up with Declan like I’m the sex police.
Grim explains, “Because you never get ass. Not for the lack of All Saints High’s population trying.”
Months into the stinging rejection from Bailey, and I’m still hardcore abstinent. No one does it to me like she does, so why try?
I slap Grim’s thigh. “I live vicariously through you.”
Grim frowns at me. “You need to Band-Aid this shit, Cole.”
Putting his beer to my lips, I down it too.
“I mean it. You’re mentally blocked. Just get it over with. Fuck someone else. Sex is a carnal urge, not a marriage proposal. Just because you choose to play the field, doesn’t mean your endgame isn’t Bailey.” He stands up and saunters Declan’s way.
I watch them talk and flirt and do all the things I should be doing right now.
I wrench my phone out of my pocket and text Bailey while someone miraculously puts a fourth fresh beer in my hand.
We’re barely on speaking terms these days. She mainly communicates with me via DoorDashing me food and vitamins. I text her weekly to check she’s alive. She sometimes answers but mostly doesn’t.
Lev: Doing something fun tonight?
Surprisingly, she answers after a few minutes.
Bailey: Neck deep in comparative politics of North Africa. You?