Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
His face went as hard as stone, but he allowed me to put it there, and then return his pen. “I won’t text you,” he muttered.
Defeat washed over me, but I knew he was just saying that… or was he? I couldn’t tell, but his voice didn’t sound as assertive or rough as it normally did. In fact, his voice wavered a bit, proving he didn’t quite mean it.
He knew himself—that it would be difficult not to when he had all the permission in the world from me.
“Jenny?” Someone familiar called my name. I straightened up, stepping around Drake and spotting my Dad by the double doors. He frowned as he looked from me to Drake.
Drake returned the frown, unafraid of my father and his uncertain gaze.
“Coming!” I called. Dad nodded and turned as someone called for him, but I knew he was still watching. I didn’t care.
I looked at Drake again, lingering, feeling the urge to never pull away. He needed somebody. He knew it, but he had too much pride and way too much of a damn ego to admit it.
“You have my number,” I said as sweetly as possible. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He was staring at me intently, brows stitched together.
He was… confused. He didn’t understand me.
Good.
That meant he had questions and there was only one way to get answers for them. “I hope you decide to shoot me a text soon.”
“I won’t text you,” he grumbled.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, feeling that nauseous feeling from when I first woke up. “Okay, Drake,” was all I said before I turned my back to him and met up with my Dad by the portraits upfront.
I was out of the door, but when I looked back, I could still see him. He wasn’t looking at me, though. He had pulled out the paper from his pocket.
He read it over and over again, and then he frowned. I witnessed him crumple the paper in his hands and toss it in the nearest trash bin before entering the kitchen… as if it were nothing.
As if I was nothing to him, and never would be.
I sort of hated him for it, but I knew myself—knew my heart. I couldn’t cast hate on someone who already hated his existence.
It just wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t right.
* * *
As soon as I’d gotten home, I took a four-hour nap. It seemed like the longest nap of my life, but it was utterly refreshing.
Having not taken a shower since the day before, I leisurely put myself between the walls of the glass case, allowing the water to drench me. It felt nice, and necessary.
As I washed myself, I tried getting Drake out of my head but I couldn’t.
I won’t text you.
It hurt watching him crumple my number as if it were annoying him, but I vowed not to care anymore. I stepped under the stream, rinsing the suds from my hair. The soap burned my eyes for a moment, a lucky distraction.
Stop caring.
Stop caring.
Collecting my thoughts, I stepped out of the shower, my bare feet hitting cold tile. I stepped in front of the mirror, and as I studied myself, I questioned what it was about me that Drake truly despised.
Perhaps he was just accustomed to living his life alone, not talking to anyone at all. Maybe he’d gotten comfortable with where he was and there was no need for me to interfere to throw him of kilter.
I sighed, running my fingertip across the bag under my left eye. I looked horrible. I turned on the faucet, clearing my face with cool water and then turning for my bedroom.
My bedroom door was open when I walked out. It was definitely not the way I left it. I always closed my door.
No one was here, but a thin hardback book on my bed caught my attention. It was a Jenny the Fairy book. I rushed towards it, snatching it up and reading the sticky note posted on the top.
Downstairs. Now.
I frowned at her note.
Fuck her. I wasn’t going downstairs and she couldn’t make me.
I got dressed in a pair of leggings and a long tee, brushed my teeth again, and then raked my hair up into a messy bun. My phone then buzzed on the nightstand and when I spotted Kylie’s name, I smiled.
“Finally, the beast has awaken,” I teased, jumping on top of my bed.
“Please tell me you’re still hung over? Please?” she whined. “I can’t be the only one.”
“No, I’m actually okay right now. Got home after that stupid brunch, took some aspirin and a nap. I’m still a little foggy, but better.”
“Ugh.” She groaned. I heard something rattling in the background, the sound of ice. She only used a ton of ice when making smoothies. “Do you think you can swing by? Maybe help me salvage the house? My parents will be back in the morning.”