Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
I smile shakily at the thought, waiting for her to respond, wishing I was in her room with her.
CHAPTER 13
Brooke
I lie on my back, my body clothed in sensations, buzzing with them as I think about the implications of the text.
I haven’t decided if I’m going to send it yet. But his comment about him only ever wanting me to be wild with him has got my thoughts stirring, my hunger rising, everything afire with Banner.
My Banner.
Attempting to laugh it away doesn’t work. It just makes me sound like a crazy lady laughing to herself in her room.
Maybe that’s what I’ve become.
I’m just glad – even if I should feel only guilt – Banner and I kissed and were intimate before we started texting.
Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to stop wondering if this was somebody else playing me.
But Banner would never do that. He’s too good, too selfless, too much perfect husband material to do anything so cruel.
I read my unsent message again.
It makes me think maybe you want to be exclusive, which, you know…I would quite like that. I don’t know what’s happening between us. I’m not the most experienced woman. But I know it’s something. I know it matters. So if that’s what you want, for me to be your girlfriend, then I’m ready, Banner. I’ve been ready for years.
All of it makes my belly churn with irrepressible nerves, but the last line is especially provoking.
It hints at the crush.
I don’t have to tell him about that, but I don’t want to keep it hidden.
What if – somehow, impossibly – this works out, and I tell him years later? Will he feel like I’ve held something back?
Standing, I go into the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. I do it several times as though that will jolt me from this obsessive mood. But it doesn’t help.
And, anyway, I don’t want this obsession to end.
Brooke? he texts back.
I swallow, head buzzing, hands trembling as I click send.
After that, I toss the phone onto the bed. It’s like I have to get it away from me. I’ve basically just told him I want a relationship, and I’ve admitted to the crush.
The text alert is muffled, the speaker pressed against the sheets, but I hear it.
It cuts right through me, making me think of the grove, his lips, the sweat, the steam, the conga line, and his strength as we glided through the water together.
With no resistance.
Ha, I wish life could be like that.
Picking up the phone, I force myself to read it.
In my mind, we were already exclusive. I want you so badly, Brooke, every single second, I can’t even imagine somebody else touching you. I have no desire to be with anybody else who isn’t you. In fact, the thought makes me a little sick.
I take a moment to savor this part of the text, my cheeks glowing warmly, my heart feeling as if it’s floating and I’m expanding with love.
He wants what I want.
Some of it, even if we haven’t talked about children or marriage.
He wants to be together, really be together.
I should think of dad, and the implications, but the further this maelstrom of heat and affection pulls me in, the more difficult it becomes to see things with clarity.
Reading the rest of his message, my mood falters.
And years? Or do you mean year?
I can hear people squealing in excitement from the beach, probably having fun in the water.
I’m sure Mila’s voice is in there somewhere.
I could rush out there now, ignore the phone, go be with her.
But this is too addictive.
He is too addictive.
It would be so easy to tell him he’s right. I made a mistake, and of course, I meant a year. It would be so easy…and wrong, somehow, like we’re starting this journey with a betrayal.
Technically, we’re boyfriend and girlfriend now. Sort of. Maybe not in his mind.
But we’re exclusive. That’s pretty freaking close.
I force myself to write out the message, then click send.
I’ve had a crush on you for years, Banner. Years with an s, just so there’s no confusion. LOL.
I’m not sure what to do with myself next.
I’ve imagined telling Banner the truth so many times, and I tried to picture his face and think of him telling me he feels the same.
Each time, it’s faded away, and a sneering face has replaced the fantasy instead.
I’m not sure how to respond to that, Brooke, he replies.
Suddenly, it’s like I don’t work in the dog shelter. I haven’t stood toe-to-toe with terrifying dogs and stifled my sobs with the mistreated ones.
It’s like I haven’t fought to overcome all the bullcrap clinging to me from high school, all the nerves and self-doubt, all the thinking and overthinking.
Thinking of a reply feels difficult. I’m not even sure where to start.
It’s like the end of everything; I don’t care if that’s melodramatic. I don’t care if it’s selfish because this weekend isn’t supposed to be the end.