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)
“I can at least walk you out,” I offer and stand up, reaching forward to snatch her by her waist.
She lets out a yelp that gets the attention of a few of the guys.
“I think I’m fine,” she tells me and grabs my wrist, moving my hand off her waist.
A crease settles deep in my forehead and I can feel it when I say, “You don’t want me to even walk you out?” I ask the question, but already I’m talking to her back.
She turns around to walk backward, teasing me some more. As she shakes her head, her hair falls over her shoulders, covering up that soft skin of hers. “Not tonight, Dean,” she says.
“I don’t know if this is a test, but that’s bullshit if it is,” I call after her, my feet planted firmly on the floor. Her sweet laugh follows her out of the room and I stay put.
I’ll chase her if she wants, but fuck if I know what’s going through that girl’s mind.
Craziest thing though is that watching her leave only makes me want her more.
ALLISON
My pen scribbles over the numbers, morphing them from identifiable figures to squares of black. I can’t pay attention to the lecture, not when I can feel Dean’s eyes on me.
I can hardly breathe as I close my eyes. I’m so close to the edge, to losing it and falling into a bottomless pit with no way to return. I can feel it now, how liberating it would be to just let go. Years of holding it in, years of doing nothing.
My eyes slowly open to the droning white noise of the professor’s lecture. It’s only then that I see I’ve broken the tip of the pen, the ink seeping into the pages and staining them.
Not just a few sheets but nearly all of them, maybe thirty or forty pages in this notepad. Have I been sitting here that long?
“You okay?” the girl to my right asks. I recognize her face. She has a certain look about her, like someone you could easily trust. Her voice is gentle too. She glances straight ahead and then back at me when I don’t answer, merely staring at her and trying to snap out of it.
“Fine.” I manage to push out the single word.
“I’m Angie, by the way,” the girl whispers as she brushes her curly blond hair away from her face. Then she asks, “Do you need another pen?” She practically mouths the words so she doesn’t disrupt the lecture.
“Oh, no,” I say and wave her off, pushing away all the thoughts. “I’m fine, thanks.”
We share an easy smile like nothing’s happened. I suppose outwardly, nothing has. Just a broken pen and spilled ink on a notebook.
I hear a desk somewhere to the left of and behind me scratch across the floor. Dean. My body begs me to look back, but I don’t.
God, I want to. It’s different with him. A good different in some ways, but so bad in others.
He’s a distraction.
With clammy hands, I reach into my bag and pull out another pen. I rip off a single piece of paper and wrap up the ruined pen, setting it to the side of the desk to toss on the way out.
That scraping sound catches my attention again, but this time Angie’s as well. She looks over her shoulder and then back to the front of the room.
My neck is refuses to budge, all because I can feel his gaze. I know he’s watching and he’s going to want an answer. Or an explanation. Or maybe neither. Maybe if I just ignore him, he’ll leave me alone.
That’s what I should want, but it hurts to think of that possibility. Inexplicably so.
It’s funny how time passed so slowly before I came here. Every day was agonizingly painful. Now that I’m so very aware I need to make a decision, the class is over before I can let out a breath.
I need to force my body to relax and move normally so I’ll look just like everyone else. The moment I do, I look behind me, arching my neck and succumbing to temptation.
Dean’s dark eyes stare back at me.
I don’t know how I thought for even one second he’d have looked away.
Maybe he has an obsession like I do.
All that anxiety, that fear, it all slips away as the clock ticks and our gazes meet. As though I’m his reflection, his lips lift into a slow smile and mine follow.
Dean could be my personal heroin. And I want a hit. I want it hard and fast.
It terrifies me. But I want that distraction more than ever now. I want him to take me away from this. However he can. I know it’d be simple too. As effortless as jotting down on paper that I want him and exactly where to find me. It would be all too easy.