Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
I just want to talk to her.
And not this flirtation thing we’re doing—or what she assumes I’m doing for show. I want to sit down and truly talk, figure out if I’m imagining all these things that are making me believe she’s actually into me. I know I’m into her, and I thought she was right there with me, but between the damn arrangement bullshit, and her saying I’m not flirting for real, I’m not so sure. I don’t like feeling like this.
Above all, I fucking miss her.
God, I’m a dumbass.
I groan loudly, and my so-called best friend chuckles from where he sits at the bar, on his computer. I glare over at him, wanting to fight. “When are you telling Mom and Dad about Ava?”
He scoffs. “When I want to.”
“Okay, and if you’re so set on marrying her, why doesn’t she ever come over here?”
“Don’t worry about me, buddy, and don’t start a fight with me because you’re pissy your girlfriend won’t be your girlfriend,” he throws at me, not even sparing me a glance.
“At least everyone on the internet thinks she is,” I toss back at him, but even I know how stupid I sound.
“Because that totally means you’re winning at life,” he taunts, shaking his head. “You know, if you were smart, you’d employ her best friend, who is our brother’s fiancée.”
I side-eye him. “What do you mean?”
He shrugs. “If this were me, I’d call Callie, have her set up a party, and invite Cameron over. Boom, bam, she’s there because she won’t turn down Callie, and you can do whatever you need to so you aren’t moping around the apartment, driving me crazy.”
I think that through. “I don’t want her getting mad at Callie, though.”
“How badly do you want some time with her?”
Pretty fucking badly, but that doesn’t feel right.
I look back down at my phone, our text thread still up.
Me: How about tonight? I can cook for you.
Cameron: Sorry, have a paper due.
Me: Breakfast?
Cameron: Early practice.
I press my lips together, and I swear each of her quick responses—or better yet, excuses—makes me want to toss my phone against the wall. I squeeze my phone tightly, wanting to physically break it in half, but instead, I try to take a cleansing breath.
It doesn’t work.
Violently, I text back.
Me: Are you avoiding me?
Cameron: Not at all. Just busy.
Me: Okay, can you make time for your boyfriend?
Cameron: Don’t be silly. That is the great part of this. We don’t have to do that kind of stuff.
“But I fucking want to!” I scream at my phone.
“For her to know that, you gotta type it,” Quinn quips, and I close my eyes to keep from tossing my phone at him.
“She’s frustrating. Why doesn’t she want to hang out?”
“Did you tell her you want to hang?”
“Yes!”
“You said, Cameron, I want to see you because I want to, and so we can talk about only you and me, together, as one.”
I blink. I don’t appreciate how he is making me feel. “I mean, if you want to send Emery that, I’m all for it.”
“Eat shit.”
I groan loudly as I set my phone down, staring at it, willing her to realize I want to see her. I could text what Quinn said, but she’ll more than likely say no through text. No. I gotta get her in front of me. Talk to her face-to-face to get what I want.
“Am I wasting my time?” I ask, glancing over at Quinn.
He blows out a long-winded sigh before looking over at me. I fully expect him to say yes, but to my surprise, he says, “If she makes you happy and she’s who you want, then no.”
“Really?”
Quinn looks back at his computer. “Benson, you’ve always had a thing for her. You’ve always gone with how she wanted things. She wanted it to be just sex, so you put aside your feelings and made it sexual. Maybe change it. Maybe steer this the way you want for once. If she doesn’t go for it, then you have your answer.”
I hold his profile in my gaze as I process his words. I have let her decide how this has gone, but mainly because I’m scared of the rejection. I just took what she gave me, but that’s not fair to me. I deserve more because I can be more for her.
“This goes back to the way you were raised,” Quinn adds as he clicks around on his laptop before looking back at me. “Not to knock your parents, but they only loved you when you were working on the farm. Or when you played for Canada. They pulled back whenever the talk of you coming to the US came up. When you wanted more than that small town and those damn llamas, they didn’t want to have anything to do with you. So, you just settled for what they wanted, until it was too much. So, really, are you done with her shit and ready to get what you want?”