Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“Here, this will be your room,” I tell her, opening the door next to my own bedroom. Fuck what my father thinks.
“Where do you sleep?” she asks without a hint of flirtation in her voice, and I almost choked on my own spit at her question. She sounds genuinely curious where I sleep, and I can’t figure out why the hell she would want to know that?
“Next to you,” I answer without thought.
As soon as the words pass my lips, an image of her sleeping next to me pops into my head. Her soft body lying next to me in my bed… naked. Fuck. None of that nonsense… I tell myself though it’s tempting, I know without question Emerson isn’t like that. Shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans, I wait for her to make the next move.
“So, this is your room then…” She points at my bedroom door, her eyes curious, and completely oblivious to the double meaning of the words I just spoke.
“Yes, if you need anything, that’s where you can find me.” If she was any other girl, I would be having a field day with this conversation. I’d flirt so hard, her panties would fly off by themselves, but again, she is not like other girls. She’s off limits, off limits to everybody but most of all to me.
“Or downstairs in the basement,” I added. “I can show you…if you want. Or do you want some time to unpack, maybe eat some lunch? I just made myself a sandwich,” I keep rambling on. What the fuck is wrong with me? I don’t ramble. I’m a smooth talker, and yet here I stand, floundering.
“I would like to unpack if that’s okay?” She peers up at me like I hold all the power, like she can’t make a move without me asking.
“Of course. Whatever you want.” I pull her luggage in her room and start walking out when I tell her, “I’ll be in the basement now.”
She gives me a shy nod before I exit the room. Shaking my head, I walk down the hallway. I don’t know how this is going to end but something is telling me that her being here is going to flip my world upside-down.
◆◆◆
It’s been three hours, three fucking hours and she still hasn’t come out of her room. I spend most of the time in the basement fighting myself on whether I should go upstairs or not.
I can’t get her eyes out of my head, whatever I do to try to distract myself, I just can’t get the blue orbs to leave my mind. They haunt me, their beauty and sadness draw me in and won’t let me go. Maybe it’s the sadness that stuck with me. So familiar to the despair I used to see in my mom’s eyes, different in a lot of ways but also similar. I think the hopelessness is what resonates. That’s what they have in common.
Seeing that hopelessness again in someone sparks memories of my mother, of that night… a night I’ve tried so very hard to forget.
“Mom? Mom, where are you?” I call out for her, but no one answers. I’ve already looked in the garden and the library. Going up the stairs, I make my way to her bedroom, calling her name as I go. “Mom?”
I knock softly on her door before I push it open. She is in her bed, the covers draped over her, and I think she is just sleeping at first. I take a few steps toward the bed, noticing how peaceful she looks… too peaceful.
Stepping up right next to the bed, I take her in. She is pale, her lips slightly blue, and her eyes are not closed all the way. Her normally hopeless eyes staring emotionless into nothing.
I know she is dead before I touch her cold hand before I see the empty bottle of pills on the nightstand. She is dead, all life has left her body. Her pain, her suffering, it’s all gone, and she went with it...
I close my eyes, willing the memory away. When I feel something wet on my cheek, I wipe the escaped tear away. I can’t remember the last time I’ve cried. The girl upstairs is stirring up feelings I thought I had long buried.
When I finally give in and decide to walk back up, my feet can’t go fast enough. I sprint up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. I shouldn’t care what she’s doing, but I do. I care so much it’s almost frightening. There’s this magnetic pull between us, and ever since that night in the alleyway, I’ve been unable to shake her from my mind.
I don’t know what’s come over me, but when I reach her room, I grab the knob and twist it, pushing the door open without announcing myself. It’s almost like I need to know what she’s doing, if she’s okay, which is insane since I don’t know anything about her. Nothing other than she’s adorable as fuck and is scared easily.