Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
A quick Google search on dad’s old computer didn’t turn up much. I couldn’t find anything that explained me seeing my dream walk in the flesh. The closest thing was Déjà vu and I was sure that wasn’t it.
Whatever was going on between me, and Thorn Azarov was real. It wasn’t a figment of my imagination I didn’t conjure him out of thin air. He was real.
I felt him so strong now, like he was all around me, in me. I wanted to reach out and touch him.
“I want to see you, why won’t you come to me instead of playing in the wind?” Were those my words? Wow, that was so not like me; I sounded almost, commanding.
I felt breath against my nape and a hand on my nipple. “Ohhh.” My body started to move, pushing against the hand, trying to get more of that feeling.
I’m not sure, but I think he was avoiding touching my skin. Suddenly I noticed that everything we did was above our clothes and he still had yet to kiss me.
I tried that now and he was gone, just gone. I flopped around for the rest of the day, until it was time for bed. There was no sign of him all that day, just the overwhelming sense of his presence, so I went to bed feeling needy and lonely.
Chapter 8
“Jazz you’re gonna be late for your first class if you don’t get a move on.” Dad yelled up the stairs early the next morning.
I had dragged myself out of bed after another night of hot sticky dreams.
Where my lover brought me to a fever pitch, before kissing my forehead and holding me close until I fell off into slumber.
“Coming dad.” I took one last look in the mirror and shrugged my shoulders before heading out of my room.
I didn’t do my usual bounce down the stairs this morning, as I wasn’t sure how I would be received.
I’d taken Anna’s advice to a point and put on some lipstick, which I had to admit made a difference.
My face looked somehow lighter, the dark red lips with the pale face, how very clichéd, but it looked pretty.
It was the short denim skirt I wasn’t too sure about though, and the way dad’s eyes widened in surprise only compounded my doubt.
“What, no good?” I looked down at myself in the short denim skirt that fell a few inches above my knees; I’d paired it with a pink twin set with flowers around the border, and my black ballet flats.
“It’s fine, it’s just so...un-you.”
“I don’t think that’s a word dad.” I headed for the door before I changed my mind and went back upstairs to change.
“Aren’t you going to have breakfast?”
“Not today dad, I’ll just have some fruit later, but I really need to go. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”
“Stop that, you don’t have to make me breakfast everyday, I can manage. I never got to talk to you though since Friday really.”
He was right, after going fishing, he’d gone straight to work from Barney’s the next morning. I had been in bed when he finally came in last night.
“It was fine dad, nothing happened and as you can see, I’m in one piece.”
“Alright, I was just thinking that maybe it was too soon to leave you alone no matter how much you protested. Your mother would have a calf if she knew.”
Funnily enough I hadn’t told her that I was alone when we talked yesterday; an oversight, or precaution?
“Well we spoke yesterday and she was none the wiser dad so no worries, now I have to go as you said, I’m gonna be late.”
It’s a good thing he didn’t ask me why I was so late getting up, when I’d gone to bed so early.
“Okay, you have a nice day Jazz.”
He yelled after me just as the door was closing.
“Thanks you too dad.” Thank heavens he hadn’t looked too close and there were no more questions. I don’t think I could’ve withstood that look for a minute longer.
I have no idea why I was so nervous as I pulled into the school parking lot. My stomach was full of butterflies, and my palms were sweaty. I wiped them on my skirt as I hopped out of my truck and looked around.
The catcalls and whistles started right away, and I was as red as a sunburnt tourist by the time I reached the safety of the school steps.
Why did I wear this stupid thing anyway? It’s been sitting in my closet for at least a year and I’d never had any intentions on wearing it ever.
I felt way more comfortable in jeans thank you very much and I didn’t need, nor did I want this extra attention.
But I’d bought the stupid thing at the spur of the moment on one of those days when I was missing what it meant to be a teenager. I should’ve known things wouldn’t go as I saw them in my head.