Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Ah, so Owen fancies himself Nico’s wingman.
“Come on,” Nico laughs, “you were a good fit for the job.”
Owen snorts. “Half the time I was late or crying on your sofa, but if you say so…”
“I get it, you’re such a good, caring guy,” I tell Nico and shake my head to make sure he understands I see this exchange for what it is. Yet I don’t want to slide out from under his arm yet. Even after three days in his murder basement. I’m so messed up.
“I said no single lie,” Owen says and returns to his box of packaging materials while Nico leads me past the counter toward the door opening into the street. “Leave it open, I was about to unlock the door anyway. Have fun you two!”
“But if there’s a sudden onslaught of crowds, do call me!” Nico says with a worried expression.
Owen rolls his eyes. “No, I’ll call the temps first.”
Nico sighs and waves at him. “Thanks!”
I’m in disbelief when my foot hits the pavement. After the few days I’ve had, the outside world almost feels like a simulation. Nico has allowed me outside. If I screamed my head off for help right now, he’d be unable to stop me without someone noticing, because while the picture-perfect town is still waking up to life, there’s already some tourists admiring the Christmas decorations contrasting with snow that must have fallen last night, locals running errands, and a postal truck stops in front of a butcher’s shop just as we leave the Winter Emporium.
A part of me wants to do it, to break the trust he’s placed in me, but it’s a bright, sunny day, and I have so much to still find out about the Christmas Killer. I don’t want to waste the chance I’m given because of fear. I’ll be smart about this, so I can have my cake and eat it too.
“Why did you tell him we’re a couple?” I whisper as we step into the frosty air.
Nico clears his throat, but when he tries to hold my hand, I put it in my pocket. This is all too much, too fast. I’m guessing he knows the town isn’t too homophobic for such a display of affection, but I’m overwhelmed.
“Is that really a problem? We are dating…”
Whatever positive things I’ve been thinking about him need to be retracted, because he is insane. “This is only our first date. What if it doesn’t work out?”
He groans and puts his hands into his pockets too. “Then I’ll tell him we broke up. What’s the big deal? Are you ashamed of me or something?”
“What? No! I just don’t know if I’m ready for relationships. You’re moving really fast, and I’m only about to start my own life,” I say, walking toward a picturesque church at the end of the road, and a Christmas tree almost as tall as the red brick buildings on either side. I don’t drive, and even though I can ask my brother to pay someone to take me places, I rarely end up going anywhere. It’s both exciting and overwhelming to be here. I don’t even know the name of this town.
“Fast? I barely kissed your forehead last night.” Nico is disgruntled like a big baby who didn’t get to lick the lollipop they stole. I look back, glad the sidewalk has been dusted with salt already, because the piles of snow under the building facades are pretty substantial.
“Yes, fast. I don’t know you well yet, and I don’t like that you’re pushing. I’m too young to seriously consider commitment. We just share a common goal.”
For a while we walk in silence, his face no longer the sunshine I got in the morning. I worry if maybe I should pander to him more, but why does he get to be real with me and I don’t?
“I spilled my guts to you about my deepest, darkest secrets. How can you say you don’t know me well?” Nico mumbles without looking at me.
This feels like trying to teach a rottweiler how to be human. “That’s not how it works. You can’t expect me to move at the same speed as you, just because you want me to. And what happened to friendship?” I say, wanting to offer a meaningful alternative to his fantasies.
“I don’t want friendship. I want to kiss you and fuck you,” he growls, spearing me with eyes like two icicles.
Wow. Okay then.
I look around, worried someone might have overheard him, but the street is empty. My insides pulse in response to the harsh way he pronounces the word fuck, and I need to redirect my thoughts, because they now contain as much fear as they do excitement. “If you don’t accept ‘no’ for an answer, how come you’re taking me out? And, by the way, people don’t need to be in relationships in order to have sex,” I add, speeding up to rush past a lady walking her dog.