Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 79183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I snort. “No artist can create a masterpiece with movement unless they’re finger-painting, which can be arranged if you keep bouncing your foot.”
“Sorry,” she mumbles.
The minute I start painting, goosebumps break out across the silky skin on her legs. I pretend not to notice the room’s gone completely silent like our past ghosts are watching, and the moment is too intense for words to fill the space between us.
I clear my throat and then need to clear it again as I move down to her second toe, then the third.
The goosebumps on her legs are more pronounced as I make my way from one foot to the other. “Do you, um, want a second layer?”
“Sure.” Her voice is so quiet, I swear it’s like she’s afraid to speak too.
I nod and don’t even look at her as I start to paint and then finally decide to just put it out there. “I’m sorry.”
“For?”
I can’t look at her, plus I find focusing on her feet is soothing. Damn, maybe I do have a toe fetish—just her toes, only her pretty toes. “For that morning, for taking advantage, for being an ass and not even knowing you long enough to have a one-morning stand.”
“Cute, since it wasn’t night?”
“Naturally.”
Her foot bounces a bit. I turn and glare.
She winces, then tugs her bottom lip with her teeth. “Sorry, I forgot.”
“I’m right here.”
“I know.”
I just sigh. “It, it…” Wow, good job Ambrose; you said the same word twice. “All I’m saying is it won’t happen again.”
I hate myself.
I would commit murder for it to happen again. I bite my tongue and wait for her to say something as I finish the second coat and start blowing on her feet.
“Because it’s only a short cease-fire,” she says. “Right?”
I stop and look up at her. “No, not because of the cease-fire, but because I was wrong, and it wasn’t fair, and you should feel safe without sex.”
Her smile grows, it’s so damn pretty. I go dizzy with this need to lean over and kiss her. Great, a full minute after I promise not to get carried away.
I clench my teeth so hard my jaw hurts. I’ve always been able to control myself—especially because I always had people watching me, so why am I losing my grasp on that control?
She looks down at her toes. “Pretty.”
“Um, yeah, see, told you, artist.” I hold up the bottle, make sure it’s sealed shut, and then toss it onto my bed.
“That’s exactly the sort of thing that makes girls fall for boys that are bad for them.” She finally says.
“That I’m an artist?”
“No. That you should feel safe without sex.”
My lips curl into a smile. “Yeah well, I’ve been practicing not being a jackass in front of the mirror. How am I doing?”
“Meh.” She holds up her hand and waves it back and forth. “You moved from negative five to at least a three today after the cease-fire, fridge incident, and painting my toenails.”
“Does the apology at least bring me to a five?” I ask rather than beg.
“Kiss me.” She challenges.
“Shit, don’t do this to me.” I groan into my hands. “You’re testing me, aren’t you?”
She shrugs one shoulder and leans back on her hands.
“And you wonder why I hate you,” I say in a grumpy voice. “No. I’m not going to kiss you.”
She holds up her hand to me. All five fingers. “Congrats, you’re now at a five.”
I high five her, then fall back against the carpet with a laugh. “Life goal made!”
She falls back on the carpet too, and we both stare up at my ceiling. “You do realize you still have those cheesy stars up on your ceiling.”
I put my hands behind my head. “Yup.”
“Don’t you want to take them down?”
“Nah.” I shake my head even though she’s looking up. “I used to look up at them and make wishes.”
“What sort of wishes?”
I realize it’s getting late, and we both have school in the morning, but I like being in her universe, and I like her asking me about mine.
Way too much.
I swallow the lump in my throat as I think about the first star I put up. When it didn’t work like Sesame Street said it would, I put up another, and another, until I had this giant ass constellation up there, surely that would be enough wishes to give me what I wanted.
“You’re going to laugh.” I finally find my voice.
She turns on her side and looks at me. “Try me.”
I glance over at her, and our eyes lock; I never realized how pretty brown eyes were until this moment, until her. “I wanted a sister.”
She frowns, and then it’s like she can read my mind as she whispers, “So you wouldn’t always have to be perfect.”
“So I wouldn’t always have to be perfect.”
She stares deep into my soul. I swear she knows me more than my friends, more than my mom, when she nods and, with a small smile, says, “I guess your wish was finally granted.”