Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 258(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 258(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
“I wish I wasn’t so awkward,” I admit, setting my beer on the railing so I can tuck my hands into the front pocket of my hoodie.
“It’s cute,” he smiles, tugging the end of my hair.
Giggling, I shake my head. “It’s not.” I turn away from him and my eyes catch on the window that looks into the kitchen—a window I can see Denver kissing Pamela through. I pull my eyes off them, feeling my heart in my stomach.
Pamela’s a senior who’s so pretty she’s actually had modeling jobs for a couple of well-known designers. I’ve overheard her say that after graduation she’s moving to New York to work full time as a model. I have no doubt she’ll do well if she does go. Then again, maybe she won’t go; maybe she’ll stick around for Denver, or maybe he’ll go with her.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Gabe says, and I try to focus on him and not the way my heart feels like it’s being crushed inside my chest and my stomach is turning with nausea.
“Hmm?” I look over at him, noticing he looks tense. Actually studying him he looks nervous.
“I was wondering if you’d want to…” He pulls my hand out of my sweatshirt, grounding me with his touch. “I was wondering if you’d want to be my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend,” I repeat on a quiet breath, dropping my eyes to his hand wrapped around mine.
“I know we’re friends, but I like you. I’ve always liked you.”
I stare into his eyes and my heart lodges itself in my throat as I think about my answer. With Gabe, things have always been easy. He doesn’t make me nervous or anxious. With one smile or touch, he doesn’t make me feel like I’m out at sea searching for an anchor to keep me tethered so I don’t float away. He makes me feel like I’m safe. I need safe.
“Yes,” I whisper, lifting my eyes to his, and he smiles. I want to smile back, but I don’t, because in my heart I know I don’t actually want safe.
_______________
Denver
Age 21
I lift the bottle in my hand and drink deep, closing my eyes as alcohol burns down my throat and warms my stomach. I’ve been drinking for a month straight, since the day I came back into town. Since the day I found out Aubrey and Gabe are getting married. No one told me about the impending wedding. Even my parents kept the news from me.
“Drinking isn’t going to stop tomorrow from happening,” Lincoln says from my side, and I turn to glare at him. “Fuck, man.” He jerks his fingers through his dark hair. “I know—”
“You don’t know shit,” I growl, standing and taking the bottle with me as I walk across the room.
“Dude, this shit is fucking jacked.” He’s right; it is jacked. Being in love with a woman who is marrying someone else is completely fucking jacked. “I understand why you’re—”
“Don’t. Do not fucking go there.” I point at him with one finger, and he shakes his head. I lift the bottle and take another pull, willing myself to fucking black out already.
“You need to stop.” He gets in my face, pressing his chest against mine.
“Back the fuck up.” My hand balls into a fist and adrenalin rushes through me. I’m ready for a fight, been ready for a fight for days, months—no fucking years.
“If you want to stop the wedding, I’ll be there with you, cheering you the fuck on. But I won’t watch you slowly kill yourself using a bottle to do it.”
I close my eyes, my chest aching with every breath I take. “She was supposed to be mine,” I grit out through clenched teeth. “She was supposed to be mine!” I roar, letting the bottle fly and watching it shatter against the wall on impact, the gold liquid exploding everywhere.
“I know.” He grabs the back of my neck, pulling my forehead to his. “I know.”
“She was supposed to be mine,” I repeat once more, my voice hoarse.
_______________
Denver
Six years later
Feeling my cell vibrate in my back pocket, I drop the rope in my hand to the wood deck of my boat and wipe the sweat from my face with the underside of my tee. I have three hours before I need to leave port and it’s already dark, making it hard to get shit done—meaning I shouldn’t be taking a call right now. I should be getting my ass in gear. Pulling out my cell, I don’t look at the screen before putting it to my ear.
“Yeah,” I answer, walking to the edge of the deck near the dock, untying the rope there, tossing it behind me, and hearing it land with a loud thud.
“Denver, it’s Gabe.”
“Gabe?” My brows draw together tightly. I only know one Gabe, and I have no idea why he’d call me. We’re not friends; have never been friends. The only thing he and I have in common is Aubrey.