Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Luke’s words kept circling my brain the whole time we ate.
He made small talk. I picked at my food, which I didn’t eat much of because my appetite was gone after Ares’s visit.
Then, I got a text.
I’d never moved so fast to get to my cell, hoping it was Ares.
But it was my dad, checking on me after our fight.
No actual mention of the fight itself or the things I’d said. He was basically checking that I wasn’t drunk. He didn’t exactly say it—the text said, Are you okay?—but I’ve had enough of those texts from my dad since the crash that I know how to read between the lines.
That annoyed me even more. But I didn’t want to leave him hanging or worrying, if he’s even capable of that. So, I texted back.
I’m fine. I’m having dinner with my sponsor.
I knew that would set his mind at ease.
And it did. He responded with, Good.
Luke insisted on helping me with the dishes, and when they were done, I said that I was feeling better, no fear of me running to the bottle, so he was okay to take off. I was too stuck in my own head after what happened with Ares to be good company.
Luke looked at me for a long moment, but whatever he saw in my face satisfied him that I was okay, and he left with my promise to check in with him tomorrow.
And, now, I’m just sitting here, in my quiet apartment, staring at the black screen of my television that I haven’t bothered to turn on, thinking about that moment with Ares. Why he was so angry. How sick I feel for lying to him about why I canceled our plans. And why Luke would even think that Ares saw me as more than a friend. He’s given no indication of that at all. If anything, he has made it more than known that I am not his type at all.
I need to talk to him to, at the very least, apologize for being dishonest with him.
But, if we have that conversation, I will have to tell him who Luke is and why he was here.
It might push him away, but he’s not exactly here anyway, is he? So, what do I have to lose?
“Fuck it,” I say to my empty apartment.
I get up, push my feet into my sneakers, put on my leather jacket, and grab my cell phone, bag, and my keys. Then, I let myself out of my apartment, locking the door behind me, and exit my building.
Out on the street, I start walking until I spot a taxi. I flag it down and climb in the back. I give the driver the address of the building Ares lives in; I only know where he lives because he mentioned it one time. I have no clue which apartment he actually lives in.
So, this is a pretty dumb idea.
But I have to do something. I have to see him. It’s not a conversation that I want to have over the phone.
So, I’m figuring, I’ll just call him when I’m at his building, letting him know I’m there, and hopefully, he won’t turn me away, and I can have my chance to apologize and explain.
When the cab pulls up outside his apartment building ten minutes later, I’m jittery with nerves.
I pay the driver and climb out.
I hear the cab pull away from behind me as I stare up at his apartment building. It’s really nice. A lot nicer than the building I live in.
Not that where I live is crappy. But his building screams money.
Which he has, thanks to his football career.
I walk up to the main door and push it open, stepping inside.
“Hi. Can I help you?”
My eyes lift to the security guy at the desk.
His building has security, and mine has a main door that some of the residents forget to shut.
Shit, did I close it when I left?
“Hi.” I step up to the desk. “I’m here to see Ares Kincaid.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“No. Would you mind calling up and letting him know I’m here?”
“Of course.” He smiles. “What’s your name?”
“Arianna Petrelli.”
I wait while he picks up the desk phone and makes the call to Ares. My leg bouncing on the spot.
What if he doesn’t want to see me?
Then, you’ll go home, eat ice cream, and feel sorry for yourself. But you will be okay.
“Mr. Kincaid, it’s Phillip from security. I have a Miss Arianna Petrelli here to see you. Okay.”
He hangs up the phone, and I’m watching him with my heart in my throat.
“You can go on up.”
I almost crack my face with the smile that hits my lips.
“Thank you,” I say and then, “Which floor? I haven’t been here before.”
He smiles. “Take the elevator to the eighth floor. It’s apartment eight-oh-two.”