Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten with anyone,” I admit, chugging the glass of water he pushes to me followed by more vodka. “Well, maybe Yuli, but she’s on a plane to Africa by now.”
“You had a boyfriend. That you lived with. How is that possible?” Nine asks, taking another bite.
I think for a moment, squinting as if the reason why could only be seen through tiny slits in my eyes.
It can’t.
“I’m not sure. We had charity dinners and things like that, but nothing where it was just him and me. We both worked really late and never ate together and he left really early so no breakfast together either. There always had to be a reason for why we ate together, an event. It was never because we wanted to spend time together, probably because we didn’t.”
Nine scratches his jaw. “So, you’re telling me that you guys have never been out on a real date? Isn’t that what couples do? Dates and shit like that?”
“I wouldn’t know. It was my first and only relationship, but if you haven’t guessed it already by the word vomit and tendency to make jokes in the face of death, I’m an anxious person. Jared never knew how I’d react to certain things, and he never understood it. So maybe, he was just trying to avoid—”
“Having to deal with it?” he interrupts.
My shoulders fall as the realization sets in. Nine’s right. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“What a fucking shit,” he mutters, crumpling up his napkin.
“Understatement of the fucking year,” I mutter to Baby Vodka, my hand back around its neck.
We finish our food, and Nine goes to take a shower.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he warns, heading into the other room. “I’ve got cameras and alarms everywhere.”
I wipe the crumbs from the counter into my hand and shake them off in the trash. “Ha ha. Jokes on you, buddy, because it’s not like I have anywhere to go,” I say to myself.
A few moments later, Nine comes back from the other room. He’s wearing tight white tank top and grey sweatpants. His hair is wet and slicked back. There’s a large tattoo on his chest, but I can only see what looks like black feathers peeking out from his shirt, stretching to his shoulders and down his biceps. Wings that I can rule out as angel wings since they’re black and Nine is obviously no angel. His hazel eyes shine in the dim room. His large body takes up so much space in the room I can feel him next to me even though he’s not.
For the first time in hours, I’m at a complete loss for words.
I’ve never seen someone so effortlessly good-looking before. Jared was always pudgy around the middle and, even though he wouldn’t ever admit it, he used tinted face moisturizer, which is practically man-makeup.
Nine catches me staring, “Like what you see?”
I tear my eyes from him and look to my nails, trying my best not to sound affected. “You? No, you’re nothing special to look at. In fact, I think you could probably stand to bulk up. Switching up your fitness routine could work. You know, a change from torture and maiming to, perhaps, ax throwing or lumberjacking.”
He chuckles, and the sound washes over me as if he’s touched me with his words. “You’re cute when you ramble.”
“I am, actually. Thanks for noticing. ‘Bout time someone did.”
“Shower’s in there,” he jerks his chin to the room behind him.
I grab my backpack and Baby Vodka and squeeze past Nine’s body as I make my way through the door, assaulted with his smell and the heat of his nearness, as head to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I release a long held breath and lean onto the counter for support. I look up and wipe away the steam clouding the mirror at my weary reflection.
My makeup from the night before, or two nights before, or whenever it was that this entire shit show started, is smeared down my face. My hair is a nest of a nest. Worst of all, is that I’m too sober because if I were drunk, then I wouldn’t even realize how much of a hot mess is currently staring back at me.
The bathroom is rather large for an RV. Full-sized shower and sink.
I run the shower. The bathroom smells like his soap. Light and masculine.
Before I get in, I pluck my phone from my backpack to see if Yuli has texted me from the plane like she promised, but I have zero bars. I hit the speed dial with her number, and sure enough the message on the other end tells me that my service has been disconnected.
I toss it back in the bag with a frustrated growl and step into the shower.
I find a washcloth and locate the body wash on the ledge. I take my time, soaping up my body from head to toe and shampooing my hair. When I’m done, I grab my toiletries bag from inside my backpack and brush my teeth twice. I comb my hair and search the few items of clothing I’d shoved inside. I pull on a pair of navy blue lace panties and realize I didn’t bring any pajamas or really anything that could be considered pajamas at all. What I shoved in my bag in my delirious state is one crumpled business suit that I was going to have tailored because the seam in the back is ripped up the ass and a red pleather skirt I wore for Halloween one year when I dressed up as the devil.