Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
I bite down too hard and break the toothpick in half.
31
JANE COBALT
3 Days Snowed-In
Thatcher spits out his broken toothpick.
If he’s willing to shed his clothes and take nudes, then I surely can do the same. We’re equals.
Right?
I’m frozen. Collarbones jutted out, eyes perilously big. I imagine bracing the weather outside would feel better than my iced-over bewilderment.
Thatcher is looking at me like I’m a book he can no longer read. Missing pages and smudged font. His own confusion draws his brows together. “I must not have heard you right.”
I word-vomit. “I’m going to do it too.” Every syllable is a stab to my own heart.
“Jane—”
“I understand the consequences.” We’re equals. I can do this for him. For us. I clear my swollen throat.
Charlie has been playing obscure piano pieces, until now. He switches to Chopin, the romantic melody often accompanied with waltzes. He’s poking fun since Thatcher and I are more at odds with each other.
I want to be unconcerned about my brother, but he’ll voice his opinion—whether on my side or not. He’s just biding his time.
Thatcher never breaks my gaze. “I’d like to go over the consequences one more time before you make this decision.”
“That’s fair.” I face him more, but I’m careful of our distance. Tony is still loitering outside the parlor door. “And it’s simple really. If we both take nudes, then there’s a fraction of a chance they could be leaked online.” Easy enough, Jane.
Right?
Right.
His forehead wrinkles in heavier concern. “And…” He waits for me to keep going.
“And we’ll both have nudes online. Simply that.” I weave my arms over my body.
Confidence. I scrounge for more.
“You’re not that daft,” Charlie butts in.
“What do you want me to say, Charlie?” I question. “That men will masturbate to naked pictures of me? That people will jeer? That I will be critiqued and criticized from my areola size down to my pubic hair. I understand. All of it.” Tears threaten to rise and knives wedge between my ribs. Every breath tight.
I can do this.
I can.
I can.
Can I?
Charlie bangs keys with twice as much agitation.
I spin back to my boyfriend.
He’s locked down, walled up. He’s now the book I can no longer read.
“Why don’t you care about those consequences for yourself?” I question. “Fans are just as likely to spread your dick over the internet and jack off to the photos.”
“It doesn’t bother me.” He sighs out frustration. “Except…”
Banks. They’re identical twins. They look so similar. “Your brother.”
He nods slowly. “He’d be okay.” He pins his focus to me. “It’s also easier for me than you. I’m not a girl. I’m not born into fame. I’m not Jane Eleanor Cobalt. These consequences don’t hold the same severity for me.” He pauses. “If I give up here, will you?”
And ruin this game for him?
I feel awful just at the thought. So I shake my head and say, “Let’s continue this together.”
Thatcher doesn’t hesitate. “No.”
“No?” I blink, my eyes burning.
He glares, and the intensity is like the hottest heat wave. He quickly diverts his eyes to the ceiling. “You don’t want to do this, honey.”
“I just said I did.”
He dips his head down, his brown eyes hitting mine again. Glare softened just a fraction. “And you’ve said the opposite up until now, so the only fucking thing that’s changed here is me. Tell me you’re not doing it for me.”
I can’t deny the truth. “If you’re taking a risk, I have to, too. There’s no way around that.” I add quickly, “And you want to do this, so I won’t stop you. I just don’t want you to stop me from doing it too.”
“Fuck that,” Thatcher says. “If you think, for a second, I’m going to stand around with my dick in my hand and watch you do something that could harm you—all just for me—then you don’t realize what I’d do to protect you.”
I’m on the edge of a cliff. I’ve always loved how he’s my safety net. But… “I have to try.”
His narrowed eyes are bloodshot. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you.”
I fight for deeper breath, and I hate that this has all spiraled here. The threads of this relationship have tangled, untwisted, and slipped between my fingers.
How can I be in a relationship where I let my number one, my life and soul run through fires without me?
Thatcher turns to my brother. “Throw this card out.”
He won’t.
“No,” Charlie says. “You quit, you lose. You finish, you win.”
We are given hard choices, and I feel this one barreling down. “I can take a few nudes.” My voice has risen, confident and blazoned. I can do this.
I can do anything.
Thatcher stares at me deeply, and I realize the chess game is now between him and me. We’re in a standoff. Rook to rook, and I make the next move.
“You can’t physically stop me.” The words come out fast, and immediately, I feel like a brat. Dear God, just bring in the shovel. Bury this whole thing into a thousand-foot grave. I’m waiting for someone to cover the dirt on top of me, suffocating me. I hate what I said. I hate how this is going. I want to eject from all of it. “I’m sorry, I just…this is wrong…and what if we’re just not right for each other?”