Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
“It’s easy for you to say from the pedestal everyone puts you on.” I shake free of his hold. “I’m done talking about this. I don’t want to say something I’ll regret.” If I get emotional on him, I’m liable to spill my guts, more than I already have. Ask him why he did all the things he did. In Toronto, I can usually ignore my past, but not here.
My mouth goes dry when we arrive at his parents and he ushers me into the cabin.
“I’m going to get ready for bed,” I announce.
“Okay.” Dallas tucks his hands in his pockets, looking lost and unsure.
I grab my nightshirt and toothbrush and disappear into the bathroom. I’m way drunker than I thought. I lost count of the number of glasses of champagne I consumed. I’m bleary-eyed and unsteady on my feet. I change into my nightshirt and nearly fall over. When I open the bathroom door, Dallas has already changed into shorts and a T-shirt. We trade places, and I stare at the bed for a few long seconds. It’s so small. So, so small.
I turn off all but the bedside lamp and climb in, shimmying as close to the edge as I can. I pull the covers up and cross my arms, trying to make myself as small as possible, which isn’t easy because I’m not small. This bed is not made for two adults.
I close my eyes and try to even out my breathing. The bathroom door opens and closes. The bed dips, and I swallow. Dallas’s arm grazes mine. I should not feel that in sensitive places, but I do.
“I’m sorry tonight was hard.” His fingers skim my thigh.
I make a noise but don’t reply with words. The memory of how good he could make me feel is invasive and unnerving, because nothing would make me feel more vulnerable, which is terrifying.
“I could make it better. Distract you, if you want,” he whispers.
It would be so easy to let him try. But I can’t deal with physical contact. I have too many feelings tonight, and I can’t manage chemistry feelings on top of all the other ones.
“’Night, Dallas.”
He withdraws his hand. “’Night, Wilhelmina.”
It’s going to be a long one.
CHAPTER 27
DALLAS
Iwake up to Willy’s butt and back against my side. In her defense, this bed is really small, and there’s a dip in the middle that causes us to roll toward each other. Not that I’m complaining. It’s the opposite, actually. I’m living my dream.
I lie on my back, basking in the glory of this tiny fucking bed. My mom had a plan when she put us out here. My bedroom has a queen, and so do all of my siblings’ old bedrooms. But out here in the cabin, we have privacy and closeness, which my mother believed we needed as a newly engaged couple. Bless her sweet, unknowing heart.
I have a crick in my neck from staring at Wills for the past half hour, but it’s worth the pain to watch her like this. Her long, wavy hair fans out over the pillow, and she hugs another one to her chest. She kicked off all the covers at some point during the night, and her sleep shirt has ridden up, revealing a pair of dark blue boy short panties. They show off the incredible curve of her ass.
I continue to lie beside her until my morning wood demands my attention. I doubt she’d be impressed if she woke up next to me and my very excited erection after how last night ended. I have enough time for a stealth session in the bathroom, so I carefully slide out of bed. Wills immediately rolls into the center and snuggles with my pillow.
It does not take me long to handle my handle. Wills is still sleeping soundly when I emerge from the bathroom. I’d love a coffee, but I don’t want to wake her with the noise. I avoid all the creaky spots on the floor as I open the door and step outside.
It’s a beautiful July morning. The sun sits just above the tree line across the lake, its reflection forming a path across the surface of the water that ends at our beach. The lake is smooth as glass, a light fog caressing it. A few kayakers make the most of the morning serenity before the speedboats and jet skis come out to play.
This is my favorite time of day, other than nights spent in front of the campfire, making s’mores and enjoying the night lit up by stars. But nothing beats a summer morning. A hummingbird zooms around the feeder hung from the eaves. He’s quickly chased off by another bigger hummer.
A lot of what Willy said on the walk home last night rang true in ways I hadn’t considered before. In high school, I had friends in every group. Maybe they were more like acquaintances, but people wanted to be around me. And my position at the top of the social hierarchy was important to me. Too important. Being the cool kid felt good, especially with a family like mine. Being popular gave me a false sense of importance, and I never wanted to lose that. I cared so much about other people’s opinions that it took a long time for me to realize what kind of person it made me. It clouded my judgment.