Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Don’t even think about it,” she says with a playful smile as if she could hear my thoughts. “I didn’t get this dressed up not to be taken out.” She steps toward me, patting my chest. “And if you’re a good boy, I might even let you take the dress off me at the end of the night.”
“And what about the heels?” I ask, glancing down and admiring the way they make her legs look even longer and more toned. “Can I take those off too?”
She shakes her head. “I think those will stay on,” she murmurs. “I’ve always had a fantasy of being fucked with heels on. Like in the romance books... digging them into the guy’s ass. Maybe you can help me fulfill that fantasy.”
“I’m the only one who’ll be fulfilling any fucking fantasy you have,” I growl.
“We’ll see.” She shrugs and walks around me, the door shutting behind her.
Since we’re not in LA, the chance of me being recognized is less, but since there’s always the possibility, I have Justin, my personal bodyguard, drive us to dinner and escort us into the restaurant. The sight of the big, burly guy might draw more attention than if he weren’t here, but I can’t take the risk, especially with Kaylee.
As promised, we’re seated outside in a private area overlooking the river, and the server has signed an NDA so nothing will get posted—seems like overkill, I know, but it’s necessary if I want our date to remain private.
After taking our drink order, the server disappears, leaving Kaylee and me alone. She’s quiet, clearly lost in thought, and I watch her for several beats, admiring how beautiful she is.
“What’s going through your head?” I eventually ask, wanting to know all of her thoughts.
“I never thought we’d be here.”
“In Jacksonville?” I joke, making her side-eye me.
“I spent so many nights wishing you would show up in Boston, and then when I got kicked out of school and ended up back in New York, I would constantly look for you... at the coffee shop we used to go to... at the beach. When I would visit Layla’s mom, I would look for you at the Blackwood house even though I knew you were on the other side of the country.”
The day she “cheated,” I found out she was attending Boston, and I thought maybe that was why she did what she did, to push me away, but a few months later, Camden mentioned she was back in New York, and I always wondered what had happened.
“Why did you switch from Boston to NYU?”
“When I let you go, it was the hardest thing I’d ever done,” she says quietly. We talked about what happened, but we’ve yet to discuss it in detail since we went from me hating her to being pissed at her to fucking the hell out of her.
“I knew it would be hard, but when Layla and I got to Boston, I missed you so much.” Her eyes meet mine. They’re glassy and filled with raw emotion. “I messed up. Drank too much, partied too hard to hide the pain, and I failed out.”
The server drops our drinks off, and we both order. Once he’s gone, she continues. “I tried to get a job working for a marketing firm, but nobody would take me seriously without a degree, so after I worked and saved up enough money, I went back to school. It took a little while, which is why Layla graduated before me.”
“But you still graduated.”
“Yeah, but it all felt like I was just going through the motions. I would see you on tour, in pictures on social media, laughing and having the time of your life, and it felt like my heart was being stomped on... but it also made me so happy because even though it hurt to let you go, every time I saw those pictures, I felt like I did the right thing.”
I’ll never agree with what she did, but I also get it. Because she’s right. Had she not done what she did, I wouldn’t have gotten on that plane to LA. I had already told the guys I wasn’t going, and Easton was searching for a guitarist for the band.
“Anyway,” she says, perking up slightly and plastering a smile on her face. “I just can’t believe, after everything, we’re here on a date, getting a fresh start.” She smiles softly—a real one this time that has my heart pounding against my rib cage. “I’m really glad we’re getting this second chance.”
When our dinner arrives, our conversation takes on a lighter tone as we flit from topic to topic, catching up on the years we’ve been apart. You’d think since we haven’t spoken or seen each other in so long, it might be awkward, but it’s not. As Kaylee tells me about her time in school, some of the places she’s worked at, and the various concerts she’s attended—which leads to us debating over what good music sounds like—it’s as if time has never passed.