Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” I said. “Go out with me?”
“Now?” She just tilted her head to the side, and all I could think at that moment was she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. I spotted her right away when she walked into class. I stared at the back of her head and hoped she would turn and look my way. When she did, I swear I heard my jaw hit the floor. Her blue eyes mesmerized me; all I wanted to do was ask her name. I figured I would be able to after class, but nope, she snuck out. When I walked into the bar that night after the game, I never thought I would see her, and when I did, I knew I had to take my shot with her. I thought I was slick. I wasn’t. She let me know right away, and it intrigued me even more.
“Tomorrow.” I said the words even though I would have said yes to them right then.
“I guess so.” She smirked. “We did have a ten-second look, so I’m assuming we have no choice at this point.” I couldn’t stop myself, even if I wanted to, and took a step forward. I wrapped one arm around her waist as I pulled her to me.
“Thank you,” I said right before I took another kiss from her. This one was soft and slow. Her tongue quickly slid into my mouth. Her hands rested on my chest. I would have spent the night kissing her, but I slowly let her go. “Good night,” I said before I stepped down the stairs and walked away from her. “See you tomorrow at five, Princess Sofia.”
I rub my hands over my face to stop thinking about the past. “It’s over,” I tell myself, just like I’ve been telling myself this since I’ve seen her again. “But fuck, is she beautiful.”
sofia
I get out of my car and try not to pay attention to the butterflies in my stomach. But I’m a lost cause. The last four days I’ve been on edge, to say the very least. Not only that, now when I go out, I look around for him, which is the stupidest fucking thing I could ever do. Like he’s going to be randomly at the grocery store or at the bakery.
I barely slept last night, knowing I would be seeing him today. I’m going to pretend that it’s because I’m nervous and not because my ex is coming in with his fiancée for me to plan their wedding. As soon as I saw the clock hit 5:00 a.m., I got out of bed, putting gold under-eye patches on. My great-grandmother would have probably given me tea bags if I was still at home.
I took extra care with my outfit today. Choosing one that looks elegant and sexy in an eat-your-heart-out kind of way. The champagne-and-black checkered skirt hits mid calf, which molds my hips and makes my ass look perfect. The long-sleeved, champagne-colored silk, V-neck, button-down shirt molds my breasts. The sleeves tie tightly around my wrists, making it sleek and elegant. I couldn’t not wear the sky-high black shoes because I knew he loved them, and I also knew it drove him crazy when I wore them. This time, I wear my hair loose with thick curls, knowing again that he loved how long and lush my hair was. So I guess you could say I dressed for Matthew today but not because I wanted to. It was more of a go fuck yourself and I hope you suffer from erectile dysfunction.
Pulling open the door, the cold air hits me right away. “Morning!” I shout out so whoever is here hears me.
“My, my, my,” Shelby says, coming out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee in her hand, “I believe someone is coming to slay.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “I don’t know what you mean,” I deflect, turning to walk to my office, my feet already informing me that these shoes will not last long. Walking into my office, I take off said shoes and slip my feet into my Ugg slippers. Dumping my bag on the chair, I make my way back out and to the kitchen to grab myself a cup of coffee.
“That didn’t last long.” Shelby notices when I walk past her in the hallway. “Those shoes are sexy as hell but only good to sit in or have sex in.”
“I know,” I concur, turning and trying not to think of the time I wore them for our date, and he refused to let me take them off when we got home. “He’s engaged,” I remind myself as I grab a mug and place it underneath the spout before grabbing a coffee pod and putting it in. I press the button before walking to the fridge to grab the milk.