Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“And you passed that stage of life a long time ago,” I say gently. “Living with your brother and his lax rules?”
She chuckles. “Yeah, I guess. Does that make me sound like a cranky old lady or something?”
“Not at all.” I almost add, that’s how I felt living in the house with all the other fighters, but I don’t think she’s ready to hear any of my reality show complaints, yet. She’s talking to me and that’s huge. Don’t want to do anything to ruin this moment. Or remind her of all the reasons why she should hate me.
“I like coming home on the weekends, because all they want to do in the dorms is get drunk or high,” she continues, “or hook up with random guys.”
My stomach clenches but I try to keep my face neutral. “You like your parties to be a little more high-octane?” I tease. “Racing cars with a side of fried dough?”
She grins. “Yeah, that’s a lot more fun to me.”
I don’t dare ask if she also comes home to visit Torch. I really don’t want to know.
Her phone buzzes again. Annoyed and frustrated by the intrusion, I wait while she checks the screen, then flicks it off without replying.
I just know it’s that orange-haired fucker.
“Torch come visit you at school?” I blurt out.
Stupid. Fuck. Why’d I ask?
“What?” Her eyes widen and she slides the phone in her back pocket. “Uh, yeah. He came out with Remy when I moved in.”
He’s been in her dorm room. He’s seen her bed. Touched her stuff.
Wait, Remy was there. Nothing happened. Probably.
“Eraser and Ella came too,” she adds.
Even better.
“How much stuff did you have to move in?” I was aiming for a teasing tone but sounds more like I’m hacking on every word.
She gestures to the bulging bag of laundry and the corners of her mouth turn up in a shy smile. “All my clothes.”
“You’re not just rolling into class in sweats every day?” I can’t stop picturing her strolling around campus in those loose green sweatpants and my hoodie.
She laughs a little more. “Well, yeah.” She shrugs. “But sometimes I like to look nice.”
For who?
No. Do not say that. Molly’s always liked putting together cute outfits. Just because I enjoy the hell out of them doesn’t mean she was doing it for my—or anyone else’s—benefit.
“You always look nice,” I say instead. Thank fuck some of my brain cells are starting to function again. “No matter what you’re wearing.”
Pink spreads over her cheeks. “Thanks.”
“I wish I’d been there to help you move in.”
Her body freezes and the soft expression on her face goes stone cold. “Well, you weren’t.”
Damn, why couldn’t I keep up the normal small talk?
“Molly, I fucked up.” My voice drops as emotion chokes off my words. “I’m so sorry. You have to know that.”
Her shoulders drop and a tear rolls down her cheek. “Okay.”
None of this is okay.
“Tell me what I can do.” Somehow we moved from easy small talk to me practically begging her to forgive me, and I don’t even care.
“There’s nothing to do, Griff.” She shrugs like she’s helpless to come up with a single thing. “It’s done.”
Done?
In no way will we ever be done.
“Are you really going to the carnival with Torch?” I ask. “That haunted carnival I said I’d take you to when I got back?”
She nods quickly and swipes the back of her hand over her cheek. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
I can’t do this with her. Talk to her about dating someone else, like it’s fucking normal and not ripping out my heart.
My inner asshole’s so close to telling her Remy’s the one who asked Torch to “date” her. But I can’t do it. Sure, it’ll make her mad at Torch and she’ll probably never want to see him again. Win for me. But more pain for Molly. It’ll make her mad at Remy too, which he fucking deserves. But I don’t want to cause problems between them either.
Maybe the truth will come out eventually, but it can’t be from me, out of jealousy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Griff
Heavy thudding above my head pulls me upstairs a few hours later. Remy’s still at the bar. It has to be Molly. What the fuck’s she wearing, cement shoes?
I quietly creep into the dining room, leaving all the lights off. If she comes in here, she’ll bump right into me but for now, she’s facing the front door and too busy furiously tapping on her phone to notice me.
Molly…Fuuuck me. I don’t know what she’s supposed to be but she’s wearing a short, black velvet dress with a high collar of ivory lace. Frills and ribbons decorate the long sleeves. The short, flared skirt has layers of black lacy ruffles peeking out from underneath it. Black fishnets cover her legs and black platform Doc Martens boots give her a few extra inches of height. That’s what made all that racket.