Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
I mean . . . it could have been worse?
I slump all the way back to the bach, only peripherally aware of Damon leading the way, pulling me by my hand. A warm knot around my fingers while wind and mortification chills the rest of me.
He sits me in my sewing chair, and soon a tea with sugar is steaming next to my machine. He crouches at my side.
“What’s going on in that head of yours, Leon?”
I laugh. Shrug. “I’m going over every word, and it’s flashing me back to when I overheard you at the supermarket.”
Damon frowns. “I said something at the supermarket?”
“Back then. About me not knowing who Louis Armstrong was. I could only ever be a summer fling. Discussions too tough.”
Damon’s lips flatten. He thinks about it for a while, and nods grimly. “That puts a few things in perspective.”
“Look, it’s fine. People say stuff like that to their friends . . .”
Damon scratches under his eye with his thumb, then rises. Purposefully, he crosses the room and picks up the megaphone. He presses the trigger, and his voice booms around the cosy room. “Sorry, Leon. I am stupid.”
I smile, and he smiles.
“Should I say it again?”
“Nah, you sound like you believe it.”
Laughter. He points at his ripped t-shirt. “Show me your magic.”
It takes fifteen minutes to fix, and he doesn’t take his eyes off me the whole time. He slips it on when I’m done. “Do you want to join me and Troy for a beer?”
Socialising—even if it’s family—is the last thing I want right now. I shake my head. “Just want some quiet time.”
He watches me carefully, and finally nods. “You don’t need guys like Wyatt, Jack and Morse. There’s plenty of fish in the sea.”
He leaves and I sag in my seat, half-heartedly picking up a D to flash before Fidget. Plenty of fish in the sea.
If you’re also in the sea.
But what if you’re like Fidget here? Alone in a small bowl, destined to swim around in circles?
Chapter Five
“What are you doing?”
“Is the balaclava too much? I sewed it myself.”
With a slow, slow sweep, Damon takes me in from head to foot. It’s Saturday, and he’s just come in from volunteering at the community centre, and he’s holding a metal cage full of bingo balls. He shakes his head in confusion and the balls jiggle with him. “Again, what are you doing?”
“Turn out the lights. Do I merge with the shadows?”
“Should I worry about your ex’s safety?”
I snort. “What? I’ve been avoiding him.” I move to the light switch and drown us in darkness. “I’m breaking into the library.”
Balls patter against metal and there’s a soft thud as Damon sets the bingo cage down. I can see his outline, faintly. His presence shifts towards me, the dark clinging to him. He looms big. Bigger than big. Big as an orca big. Enormous. Like he’s devoured many me’s for breakfast and is still hungry.
His shadow reaches over me like a tide ready to sweep me away. I blame my dry spell. I want devouring. Starting right at my lollipop hardening obscenely in my ninja tights. But I have way more self-respect than that.
I should have way more self-respect than that.
“Can I come?”
Only after me. “W-what?”
Fingers touch my throat, slide up under viscose, and leave a trail of shivers in their wake. He peels the thin material off my face, scrunching it at my hair. His head dips and my breath is being stolen by fine male scent. He pauses, mouth to my ear. “On your mission to the library?” There’s a cheekiness in his voice that tells me how obvious my attraction is. Well. Spandex.
I square my shoulders against all that heat. “I only made one balaclava. Best I go alone.”
He flicks on the light behind me, and I’m not sure what’s more blinding—the sudden glare, or his massive grin. “Everyone breaks into the library. No costume necessary.”
“What do you mean, everyone?”
“It’s a thing. Mostly teenagers, but anyone really. The roof has those sun chairs that make you feel like you’re sleeping in the stars.”
“Do you take guys there?”
“Grannies.”
“You play the entire field, huh?”
Laughter feathers over my cheek as he pulls back. “I took your mum there last summer.”
“You what?” This is beyond horrifying. It’s . . . it’s really, really horrifying.
“She had the time of her life.”
I clap my hands over my ears. “I will never even think about sleeping with you again.”
“You thought about it?”
Does a tailor need fabric?
His eyes are twinkling with laughter. I stop gazing at all his fabric and pin him with a look. “Stop that right now.”
With that massive looming shadow, he herds me out through the doors onto the sand-swamped veranda. It’s a twelve minute hike along a moonlit beach with me racing ahead and Damon telling me to wait up, he was kidding.