Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
“What kind of club?”
“Sewing, of all things.”
Olsen’s face brightens. “Sewing?”
“Yeah. It didn’t last long. And don’t ask me to mend anything.” I could tell him about Travis, but I don’t want to. Because I left Travis behind. And it’s not like we were romantic, or anything. We had sex one time and it was kind of an obligatory fuck before we went our separate ways. But I feel a little guilt over this separation and would rather not talk about it. So I just sigh. “But… you know. Mostly a loner. I guess I got bit by the nerd bug early.”
“Bugs.”
“Bugs.” I laugh. “Gangsta. Which brings this conversation to its logical progression. What about you? Where did you grow up?”
“West Virginia.”
“What was that like?”
“Pretty much what most people think of when you say the words ‘West Virginia.’ What do you think of?”
“Hmm. Hills?”
“Yes.”
“Pretty trees.”
“Yes.”
“Poor people.”
“Some of America’s poorest, in fact. The poverty rate in West Virginia is among the highest. Funny, though. New Hampshire?” He points to the ground. “Lowest poverty rate in all these United States.”
“Really? I’m surprised by that.”
“Why?”
“Oh, I dunno. I can say with all honesty that I have never once thought about New Hampshire until I was offered this position by Mercer outside my dissertation room in grad school.”
“Funny. It was the same for me. Same for a lot of people, I bet.” He gets up and clears the table. When I try to help, he says, “Go have a seat on the couch. You wanna watch a movie?”
I’m kind of exhausted, but not ready to leave yet. “Sure.” I go sit on the couch while he puts the leftovers away and piles dishes in the sink for later.
His couch is not a loveseat, but it’s not much bigger. So when he joins me, we have to sit on opposite ends to fit comfortably. He chooses a movie from his streaming service—The Adjustment Bureau—and then pauses it. “Have you seen this one?”
“Nope.”
“Do you like futuristic thrillers?”
“Hmm. Maybe?” I smile and shrug. “I don’t care what we watch, Olsen. I’m probably just gonna pass out on you.”
“You don’t have to stay, if you don’t want.”
“I do want to stay.” I look him in the eyes for this. And I realize that I really mean this too. So I say it again. “I do want to stay. I like you.”
“I like you too. And maybe it’s a little weird, because Locke brought us in on his game, but I’m not playing a game with you, Nova. I’m not.”
“Good. Mercer spent a lot of time explaining these games to me yesterday.”
“Did he tell you to play one?”
I nod.
“And what do you think? Are you going to?”
“Are you playing one? With Locke, I mean?”
“Not really. Like… I don’t mean to sound like a dick or anything, but I don’t care about these people. I’m here because I’m under contract. That’s the only reason. And as soon as the contract is over, I’m leaving.”
I picture the way he and Locke kissed last weekend. How passionate it was. How satisfied Olsen looked through the whole thing. And I’m not sure I believe him.
But do I care?
No. I don’t.
I just want to lie on his couch, and stretch my legs out, and be comfortable with him.
So that’s what I do.
I barely pay attention to the movie—though it’s not boring. It’s actually kind of intriguing. But I’m too tired to follow along. And at some point, Olsen picks up my feet, slips my sandals off, and starts rubbing them. His fingers pressing into my arch like he’s done this to me his whole life.
I never want to leave.
CHAPTER TWELVE – LOCKE
Every relationship has moments and Mercer and I are no different. We have lots of them because, hell, we’ve known each other almost our whole lives. So many of them are good. Some are bad though, too.
It’s kinda cute of Nova to be worried about me, and this relationship I have with Mercer, and how he treats me.
I can’t say she’s not right to be worried. I do admit, it has had its codependent moments.
Mercer is always pushing people away. He’s always been like that. He’s a loner. He likes privacy, and solitude, and empty places.
But it’s not real because I have always been there. If not by his side, then close by.
And every now and then he gets in these moods. He pushes harder. He demands more privacy, and solitude, and begins to crave the empty spaces.
It’s been a while since we’ve had this conversation, but we have had it several times over the years.
Leave.
I don’t want you here.
I don’t love you.
This is what he says to me.
But after all these words, there is always a kiss.
And it’s always been the kiss that kept us together.
TWELVE YEARS AGO
I’m irritated that he’s at the estates. I have been gone for two weeks, working non-stop, and I expected him to be at home when I got there.