Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
“Stop crying,” he said, and his command was harsh as if my tears were an insult to him. As if my pain had anything at all to do with him. His nostrils flared and the rage he was so well known for was evident on his handsome features.
But just as it had never affected me before, it didn’t affect me then either. I knew he was forbidden. I knew I was supposed to be afraid of him. Maybe I was just stupid because I never felt anything but desire for him.
“Stop fucking crying,” he gritted out between his clenched teeth, “and don’t tell anyone I did this. Not a single fucking person,” he threatened. He brought his lips even closer to mine in a gesture that should have been menacing, but I’d be damned if it didn’t make me hot for him where I’d never felt heat before. His eyes searched mine.
“Or else I’ll make you cry those tears harder than you can imagine.” His words caused my gaze to move from his lips to his cold stare. He would never know how hard I had cried in the middle of the night. He didn’t know what had really happened and how guilty I was.
I shook my head gently and replied, “You can’t.”
His grin was accompanied by a huff of masculine laughter like he thought it was a challenge, but before he could say whatever was on the tip of his tongue, I cut him off.
“You won’t make me cry. I know you won’t,” I said and shook my head, meeting his gaze with every ounce of sincerity I could muster. “And I won’t tell anyone.” The last bit broke my heart in two, but I don’t know why when there wasn’t a single soul to tell anyway. There was no one I wanted to run to. No one but the boy who had lost control, kissed me, and obviously regretted it.
I watched as he swallowed, his throat tightening. The bit of stubble that ran up his neck tempted me to touch it. Whatever it was that had caused him to kiss me, whether it was only to silence my crying or something else, was gone. And I knew he’d never kiss me again.
Letting out a long breath, my lips still parted, I said nothing and let him walk away.
The masculine scent of a boy I should have feared and a boy I should have never wanted, was all that filled my lungs as I tried to steady myself. I sagged against the brick building and tried to make sense of what had just happened.
I stopped crying that day and didn’t shed another tear. Not that week, and not at the funeral. Not when my uncle let me move in with him, so I would have a place to stay.
I never spoke of what happened and I started to question my sanity when he never spoke of it either.
Nothing changed in the way he acted, or in the way he looked through me.
But I remember the way I touched my lips as he stalked away.
I remember how it felt and how it was everything I needed in that moment.
He could never have known what he’d done to me that day.
But neither of us would ever forget.
CHLOE
Five years after the kiss
Random streetlights going out is something that used to terrify me.
I hate the feeling that comes with the sudden flicker signifying what’s about to happen. Then the light burns out, and all you’re left with is darkness. Even just remembering how it’s happened before makes me shudder.
One night two years ago, it took place in quick succession, the bright lights flickering briefly and then suddenly there was no light at all. It happened on my way home from old man Bailey’s hardware store. I’d gone only an hour before sunset and spent longer than I thought I would. Some asshole had kicked in my front door the night before and there was no way I was going to leave the store without a new lock. I bought two just to be on the safe side.
And so, I was walking home alone in the dark when the lights went out, one after the other. I couldn’t walk fast enough to get to the next light that hadn’t burned out; I nearly ran to it.
I don’t like to be outside at night, not unless I’m on my porch. But even then, I’d rather stay inside, where the idea of safety used to mean something.
Either way, I’d spent too long at the store and with the plastic bag dangling from my wrist, I quickened my pace when the first bulb died. I remember how I stared straight ahead at the next one, praying it would give me light long enough to get home. As if it was listening to my fears and wanted to mock me, the light vanished before my eyes.