Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
And me, right? And me.
Pipsqueak looked up from her notepad and smiled curiously. “Do you think she’s too young for the aquarium in Seattle? Can we take her there?”
I felt my forehead crease. Wait, so in this scenario, was I just tagging along as Grace’s father? I’d like to think I was more than that.
“I’m sure she’d love it,” I replied. “She’ll go nuts for the colors and moving objects.”
“True. See, I knew coming to you for advice would help. This is awesome.” After she finished making the last notes, she closed her pad and set it on the table. “You wanna watch a movie?”
Hold up. Was she serious? That was it? I wasn’t getting my own day with her?
I quickly went from worrying about such a day to feeling fucking insulted for not getting one.
“Sure.” I took a sip from my coffee, utterly disgruntled, while Pipsqueak walked over to my entertainment center to inspect my DVD collection. Ethan and I were the ones people came to borrow movies from.
I couldn’t believe I wasn’t getting my own day with her. She was going to live out of state for two fucking years. Had I not earned more than being Grace’s plus-one?
Sure, sure, I was supposed to draw a line and not be as close to her, but she didn’t know that.
Besides. How did I set up boundaries for a girl who’d always played without rules? The various restrictions I’d put on other women, or in my treatment of them, had never applied to Pipsqueak. Back when I was telling Taylor I had no interest in taking her out to dinner and tagging along for shopping sprees, I was doing exactly that with Pipsqueak, because she was different. She’d always been different. She was in a league of her own.
“Ooh, this one.” She held up Contagion, a decent movie Darius had told me to get. It was about a fast-spreading virus and society’s attempts at stopping it, and he’d called it a prediction of the future because that was how he was. “Do you wanna watch it here or upstairs?”
Jesus Christ. I clenched my jaw in an attempt to compose my face, and I set down the coffee mug. On the inside, a war began. She knew very well that the only other TV I had was in my bedroom, which led me to believe she was up to something. Who could forget that she’d asked me how to seduce a man? And God…why was I tempted to see how far she’d take things? Just because I was one sorry, deprived son of a bitch didn’t mean I should take advantage. Even if it was offered.
“I just thought, um,” she stammered, “in case you’re tired and fall asleep. Then you’d be comfortable at the beginning of the movie.”
Fucking hell, she was adorable. And she absolutely sucked at seduction. The problem was, it made her all the more appealing.
The fact that she wouldn’t make eye contact was a big sign. It was the first thing to disappear when she was remotely uncomfortable. She’d find another spot to fix her gaze, such as the floor or one’s shoulder.
“Upstairs sounds good,” was definitely not what I was supposed to say, but that didn’t stop the words from flying out of my motherfucking mouth. What was wrong with me? Pipsqueak seemed as surprised as I was to hear me agree, though she quickly plastered a casual expression on her face.
Fuck, this was bad.
Not only because I was taunting my own desire for—no, I refused to go there. I refused to admit I desired her. I couldn’t. But either way, I was practically toying with her feelings, and that made me the biggest piece of shit in town.
Yet, I didn’t say anything. I didn’t reconsider. I grabbed my coffee and followed her up the stairs, to my bedroom, where I slept, where I’d spent the past several years getting off to faceless women or porn. How the hell would I stop myself from putting a face to that body now? How would I stop myself from crystallizing that body into one I’d gawked at when we were on the beach the other day?
I guess I was going to stop jerking off.
Sick.
While Pipsqueak turned on the TV and inserted the disc in the DVD player, I poked my head into Grace’s room. She was fast asleep and wouldn’t wake me up with her demanding hollering until around five.
“I think you’re the only man I know who actually makes his bed every morning,” Pipsqueak noted.
I lifted a brow at her as I made my way over to the bed. How many men’s bedrooms had she seen?
I didn’t want the answer.
I really didn’t want the answer, judging by the foul stab of jealousy I felt in my chest. Christ, talk about losing it. This wasn’t me.