Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
He probably has decided the same thing.
Then I decide this is stupid. So I say, “You’re not that old. You know that, don’t you?”
He takes a few seconds to answer. Then murmurs, “I am.”
“And I’m not that young,” I keep informing him.
“You are.”
“I’m just seven years younger than you.”
“You’re younger than my baby sister.”
“What, is that your cut off? You can’t like a girl who’s younger than your sister?”
“Pretty much. I don’t want to think about who was making her pigtails when I was making my sister’s.”
“You—”
“Or”—he pointedly looks at my T-shirt—“what cartoons she was watching when my sister was hooked on Disney.”
“You’re so—”
“But then again, I don’t like you, remember?”
“You—”
“So are we doing this or not?”
I have two choices here: I can either hang up now and put an end to this—and I should. Or I could take his help because I am nervous. I am very, very nervous. I hate that he knows that. I hate how he got that information, but I can’t deny that running lines with someone might help.
I also can’t deny running lines with him is something I never even dreamed about. I dreamed about him being jealous, of him wanting me back, of him kissing me, of me dancing for him. But I never imagined I’d be sharing my passion with him. And as much of an asshole as he is, I still want to make the dream I never saw come true.
“First, I didn’t have pigtails. They were too much trouble for my mother, so up until I was fourteen, my hair was really short. She wouldn’t even let my nannies braid my hair”—his jaw clenches—“and second, all kids love Disney. A lot of adults love Disney too. And third, yes, we are doing this. But first, I want you to show me something.”
A frown appears between his brows. “Show you what?”
“Your room.”
“What?”
“Show me your room.”
His frown only thickens. “You want me to show you my room.”
“Yes. Show me.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “Because I want to see it.”
Because if I’m sharing my passion with him, I want him to share something of his. Which he won’t do by himself. I’m going to have to force him. Besides, this is probably the last time we’ll talk like this. After tonight, Shepard will be back and when I tell him the truth, all of this will be over, right? No late-night phone calls. No pictures. No blackmail. We will have no reason to be in contact with each other.
Like it’s been for the past year.
He will go back to standing in a corner of a room and I will go back to dancing and being with Shepard. This time around, it will be for real.
Plus I want to punish him a little for what he put me through just now. And what better way than to force him to show parts of himself when he’s always so adamant about staying in the shadows.
“You want to see my room,” he repeats, still confused.
“Yes,” I answer. “First, because you pulled such a bullshit stunt with me and mocked me. And second, every night you ask me to show you something. Every night you ask me to send you pictures. Of stupid things. Of inconsequential things. I mean, you don’t even ask to see my face and I don’t know if it’s insulting or flattering or whatever, but it’s only fair that you show me something in return. So”—I lift my chin—“turn the phone and show me your room.”
He studies me for a few moments. “I don’t ask to see your face because I don’t need a picture to remember it. It’s here”—he taps his temple with his long finger—“burned in my fucking brain. And you’ve got a boyfriend, remember? You don’t want your face on another man’s phone in case it gets into the wrong hands. In case that man’s an asshole.” Before I can open my mouth to say anything at all, he answers the question I never asked, “And yes, I know these things because I’ve got a sister your age. She’s slightly older than you but still.”
And then I’m not staring at his face anymore.
I’m staring at his room.
Which is a shame because it’s something I’ve really wanted to see for a long, long time. I’ve really wanted to get a glimpse into his life, any glimpse. And now that I’m getting it, I can’t completely focus on it because my mind’s still on what he just said. My mind’s still on the fact that… did he just imply that he was protecting me?
By not asking to see my face.
He did, didn’t he?
How… How does he do that?
How can he be so cruel and heartless, a villain, one second and then turn around and be my tortured hero the next? How can I both hate and love him at the same time?