Total pages in book: 196
Estimated words: 188002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 940(@200wpm)___ 752(@250wpm)___ 627(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 188002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 940(@200wpm)___ 752(@250wpm)___ 627(@300wpm)
He trails a finger from my stomach all the way up between my breasts, and my nipples harden into peaks from the feather-light, tickling touch.
“I have,” he finally answers, gently cupping my breasts and pressing his palm against the sensitive tips. “Been hopelessly in love.”
Jealousy creeps in like a monster, distracting me from the exquisite sensation of his warm hands on my body. “What happened with her?”
He bends down and circles my breast with his tongue, flicking his piercing over my aching nipple. The cool silkiness of his hair fans out over my skin.
“It wasn’t a woman. I was in love with drugs.”
The truth is unexpected but equally devastating.
He kisses a trail along my throat, his tongue teasing me while he palms my breast. “And now I’m in love with music and freedom. And a little sweet, sexy chick with a funky name.”
He flashes me his irresistible, crooked grin. I feel immediately grateful that his shaky hands have stilled and in place of the sadness in his eyes, I now see playfulness. Smiling, I reach up and touch the feather hanging from his ear.
“Tell me about this. Something as unique as this must have a story, right?”
“It does.”
He sits up and leans against the wall, and I rest my head on his lap as he lights up a cigarette. Acorn curls up on the sleeping bag next to us and rests his chin on an old, ratty stuffed penguin. I wish I knew what Acorn’s backstory is and if he sleeps on the toy because he’s afraid someone will take it away or if it gives him comfort. Probably both.
“I have this aunt who rescues birds,” Evan explains. “She must have at least a hundred birds of all different species. She has three that are over fifty years old.”
“Wow. I didn’t know a bird could live that long.”
He nods and exhales. “Some do. They often outlive their owners. That’s how she got them. The relatives of the deceased didn’t want them.”
“That’s so sad.”
“It is. My aunt lives in an old house with a massive screened porch, and the birds are everywhere. It’s noisy as fuck, too. Some talk, some chirp and sing, some just squawk, but she loves them. When I was younger, I used to visit her and help her take care of them. Every night, I’d climb out the bedroom window and onto her roof and smoke to try to chill out from the bird noise in my head. Sometimes she’d come out there with me, and we’d look at the stars and wait for the birds to sleep.”
“Were you two very close?”
“Yeah. She’s my mom’s sister, and I was closer to her than I ever was with my mom. When she was around.” He runs his hand through his hair, pushing it off his face. “She had this one cool little blue bird. I’m not sure what kind of bird it was, but it was much smaller than a blue jay. It used to sit on my shoulder and chew on my hair, and it would fly right to me as soon as he saw me. He was my favorite for years, and when he passed away, she made me the earring out of a few of his feathers. She told me it would protect me and bring me peace.” He smashes out his cigarette. “I’m still waiting for the peace part.”
“It sounds like the bird really liked you.”
He shrugs. “I think he just liked my hair and wanted to make some kind of epic nest.”
I laugh. “You want to know what’s funny? The first day I saw you, a little blue bird flew into my head right outside my office. It scared the heck out of me.”
“Are you kidding? A bird flew into your head?”
“Yeah. Awkward stuff always happens to me. It’s embarrassing. I’m like a weird loser.”
“Hey.” He kisses my temple. “You’re not a loser. You’re cute. And you’re real.”
“Real?” I repeat.
“Yeah. You’re… you. You follow your heart, even though it’s taken you to a fucked-up person like me. You don’t pretend to be someone you’re not. Even though you’re kinda awkward, you’re still the most beautiful chick I’ve ever met. Inside and out.”
“Me?”
He lets out a deep laugh. “You repeat everything I say.”
“Sorry. You just say things no one else has ever said to me.”
“I might be the first to say them, but I won’t be the last. Trust me.”
I don’t want to trust him on this. I want him to be the only guy to ever say words to me that make my heart and stomach jump around with excitement.
He turns and slowly crawls over me like a large jungle cat, pushing me down on my back as he moves. He studies me with an odd frown on his face and runs his hand down the length of my body, then up again to rest on my hip.