Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
She looks away again, sighing, signaling that she’s done with this conversation. “I dunno. I’ll think about it.”
I work in silence after that, finishing up just a few minutes later. It’s a lot of stitches. But I just pour the other half of the alcohol over them and wrap it all back up in clean gauze, fastening it with a bit of wrap tape.
“Thank you.” Irina is smiling the next time I look her in the face. “Do you think I can walk on it?”
“Not tonight. We don’t want to risk ripping the stitches or stretching them out. So I’ll just carry you to bed.” Before she can object, because of course she’s gonna object, I slide my hands under her knees and back and pick her up off the counter. Then I take her into my room and set her on the bed. “You can sleep here. I’ll take the couch.”
“Stop. The couch? I’m not kicking you out of your own bed. I’m like a hundred percent positive you’re not interested in having sex with me, Eason. So just get in.”
“A hundred percent?” I shoot her a lopsided smile.
“Shut up.” And she turns over.
I chuckle a little. She’s wrong though. Maybe yesterday she might’ve been right. And I might’ve agreed. But I like Irina. And even though she didn’t really kiss me back last night, I like the way it felt to be that close to her.
I get in on the other side of the bed, press my face into the pillow, and let out a long sigh.
But the weird thing is… I feel kinda happy. And it’s been a really long time since I felt happy.
Irina’s back is to me, but now she turns, kinda looking over her shoulder. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” I’m looking at her through one eye the way I was on the beach.
“Which is worse, in your mind—what happened to Eoin, or what happened to you?”
I let out a breath, ready to say ‘Eoin’ on instinct because he was just a little boy.
But then I realize I was just a little boy too.
I don’t say anything.
But she wasn’t expecting me to.
She just wanted me to think about it.
CHAPTER 18
The sound of a buzzing cell phone wakes me and I catch Eason with the phone to his ear as he leaves the bedroom, probably trying to be quiet. The clock says six-fifteen a.m., which is not early if you’re up training, but is very early for a casual phone call for most people. I strain to hear him talking, but all I catch is the closing of the terrace door.
Hmm. So whoever it is, he wants his privacy.
My foot is throbbing like a heartbeat and suddenly everything that happened yesterday flashes back to me. The dress—that was nice of him. The dinner—kind of a disaster since Nandy is going to be very suspicious. The invitation to cook for her—another disaster waiting in the wings, if you ask me. The beach and the first kiss—which was super nice, and just thinking about it now makes me smile.
But the next kiss was confusing. It was a little more forceful. And then he surprised me when he started touching my hair and his hand slipped down to my hip.
He said he did it to make me think. So it was some kind of test.
Too much or too fast? That’s what he asked me.
It was a little bit of both. But it was too slow and not enough at the same time.
He said something interesting while we were talking on the beach last. That part about us being together not being some careless default decision, but something more aligned with fate.
Maybe I could see us together. Maybe it’s not a cliché to want the person who understands you best just because they had a similar experience.
I think he’s handsome, that’s for sure. But that’s not enough for me. Paulo was a handsome boy too. And Maeko. And Peng. Even though he was only twelve when he died, I remember thinking he was nice to look at when we were kids.
But I didn’t want to kiss them or date them.
I think the best thing about Eason is the way he thinks. And I like talking to him. I like his accent and his voice.
I find myself wanting more of him, which is kind of a new feeling for me. The other men in my life—Maart, Cort, Paulo—I didn’t need to know more. I already had their stories. And anyway, our stories were connected.
So this experience with Eason is all brand new. I’ve never taken the time to get to know someone the way I’m getting to know him. Not even Nandy, because we started our friendship as professional acquaintances and it grew more personal over a series of months. I found things out about her in a casual, disconnected way. Oh, you’re in university. Oh, you drink mojitos. It was all very… stepwise and prolonged.