Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 209489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1047(@200wpm)___ 838(@250wpm)___ 698(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 209489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1047(@200wpm)___ 838(@250wpm)___ 698(@300wpm)
Oh shit.
My imaginary balls were the size of grapefruits now. I’d just called The Defender a butthole to his face. Literally inches from it.
I might just have the biggest fucking balls of all time. At least I thought so. You know who didn’t?
The man who had saved a derailed train in Germany once, who was currently snarling down at me.
I just looked at him, my colossal imaginary balls heavy. “Jerk?” I offered with one of the first real smiles I’d given him.
He snarled even more. Ooh, somebody meant business.
“I’m not asking for comfort from you,” I gritted out. “I know you’re not here to do that. But you were being really insensitive and a—”
The growl was back, and I tried to huff.
“Jesus. I wasn’t going to say butthole again, calm down. You made me mad, and it was just a hair tie. I didn’t expect to hit you. Everyone knows how fast you are, even if you are… you know.” He knew. Probably not the best idea to bring up his injuries, but I didn’t have the patience or energy to tiptoe around him anymore. “But you’ve handled a lot worse than a little elastic. We both know it didn’t do any real damage, all right,” I told him, watching his eyes closely.
I’d tried to be nice to him. I’d sucked up all his comments, bitchy faces, and overall rudeness. But I was done with it. It was too hard. It was too much. I respected him, but that didn’t mean I liked him.
The Defender kept staring at me, head still tilted to the side.
I glared right back, not about to apologize anymore.
“Why are you finally talking to me now?” I blurted out, knowing damn well how rude the question was.
He stared me right in the damn eye as he said, “I was in pain before. Everything makes sense now.”
What made sense?
The Defender huffed, then rolled off me.
Fucking butthole.
And almost like he could read my mind, his head whipped back in my direction.
I looked at him, and then I sighed. “I’m scared, all right? Maybe you’re used to high-stress situations, but I’m not. If something bad happens in here, it happens. But I don’t want to die. I don’t want to starve.” My eyes helplessly filled with tears again that I could barely hold at bay, and I shrugged. “None of this is your fault. I’m sorry. I’m upset, and I’m taking it out on you. I’m sorry.”
His brow went flat, but after a moment, he settled back against the floor. His head moved until he faced the ceiling, and his nostrils flared again.
I rubbed my face, angry and disappointed and genuinely scared.
“You’re not going to die in here,” he muttered after a moment.
That was easy for him to believe. He didn’t know everything.
“We’re going to get out,” The Defender kept going… reassuring me?
I felt my lip wobble at the reminder of the maybe slim, maybe not slim, chance my life would end here in a brutal, painful way.
“Stop it.”
I pursed my lips together.
“I’m healing,” he said in Portuguese.
That got me to glance at him as even more tears filled my eyes. “I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t think you’re healing enough,” I told him in the same language.
His eyes popped open and slid toward me.
“You need to get better first.” Whether I was going to be alive long enough for that was something I’d worry about later. Maybe I would have more time. Maybe they wouldn’t come in here any time soon. And maybe I’d magically grow six inches. “I want to get out of here more than anything, and I hope I can figure out how to get us both out. I know we aren’t friends or anything, but…” I squeezed my hands together, desperation eating up my chest bite by bite. “Maybe we can be temporary friends. Until we get out of here.” I sniffled. “We only have each other in here.”
It wasn’t like either one of us had more options.
Oh boy, I could feel the sweat on my forehead thinking about it.
Part of me expected him to go back to being that grumpy, quiet pain in the ass, but eventually, The Defender shocked me when he muttered in English, “Fuck. Fine.”
Fine? Fine? All right. Someone was dying to be my friend. Oh boy. I almost laughed, but I did sigh.
“You need to get better, and in the meantime, I’ll think about what we can do. You think about it too; you know what you’re capable of and what you can handle. I’ll try and buy us as much time as possible.” And I wasn’t going to say it out loud, but I could tell that movement a minute ago—him pinning me down—had cost him. I hadn’t missed his flinch and the strain on his face. No matter how much more he was moving, there was still something wrong. He was getting better, but it wasn’t some kind of miracle.