Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
My girl.
“She’s not your girl, idiot.” I verbally kicked myself for the mistake as I sprinted across the street, narrowly avoiding her cab speeding out of the valet entrance. He crushed on his horn and threw me the finger before skittering off the curb and onto the street.
I shook my head, straightening my black jacket and mouthing fucker at the driver.
“Hey, Elis. Are you okay?”
I smelled the soft scent of her floral perfume before I laid eyes on her. Her tender words of concern wrapped around my barbed edges like a warm blanket.
“Fine,” I spat, turning to narrow my eyes at her. “Where were you?”
Her grin dropped on one side, and she removed her palm from my forearm as she turned, quilted backpack staring me in the face. “What’s it to you?”
“I didn’t come here to watch you walk away from me.” I caught her elbow, forcing her to stop and look at me.
I liked the rattled look on her face. Found myself wanting to see it while she was naked and writhing underneath me.
Her chin tipped up, and her eyes narrowed. “Maybe you came to watch me? I’ve seen you out there at the edge of the park.”
I shook my head, no excuse except the truth. “I wanted to see you. Come with me.”
She assessed me slowly, pressing her full lips together before she glanced up to the top of the building, to the sky, and then back to me. “Why?”
She waited, but I said nothing.
“Whatever this back-and-forth, love-hate game you’re playing is about, I’m not here for it. I don’t have time. I didn’t then, and I sure as hell don’t now.”
She backed away, but I caught her wrist, pulling her to me until our chests brushed. “This isn’t a game.”
“Then why does it feel like one?”
“Nothing with you has ever been a game.” I enunciated the last four words, my eyes holding hers as something intense burned inside my chest. “That’s the part that fucks with my head the most—that you’re so in my head. All. The. Time.”
“That’s not my problem, Elis.”
“Right now, it is. Come with me.”
“My parents always told me to avoid the park after dark, no matter what.” She broke the silence. “It’s funny being here with you, of all people.”
I shrugged, thinking how funny it was after everything.
“Is it crazy that I’ve been at that apartment for almost two years and…?” Her voice trailed off, loneliness radiating through her words.
“It’s a big park. Don’t worry, Princess. I know the place like the back of my hand.”
She was silent for a long time, her fingertips grazing my forearm, every tremor like a lead weight connected directly to me. It had torn me up when she’d stomped out of the coffee shop a few days ago. Maybe that’s why I was here, to make amends and absolve myself of the guilt of hurting her.
I shoved my hand through my hair, annoyed that I’d let her get to me this much. I wasn’t one to overthink my every word, but with her, I couldn’t stop.
“I tagged my first wall over there.” I nodded around the corner to a low brick wall painted dark gray. “The streetlamp over there is just out of view. It’s always shadowy—a pretty safe tag for a first-timer.”
Her grin deepened as we took a few steps down the path so she could get a close-up of the wall. “What was it?”
I tensed, remembering my first piece like a brand behind my eyelids. “For my dad, the night after I found out he’d killed himself. I walked around the park for hours, lost in the only place I knew as home. I had to…mark it somehow, leave an imprint of my pain.”
I swallowed, the bright blue and purple slashes of color emblazoned like a tattoo. “There was this game he took me to when I was a kid, one of the first summers we spent in the city. Mets and Yankees. I sketched the mascots, adding the final stats of the game in roman numerals. It took me four hours to do it, trying to dodge stray park people walking by. I hid in the bushes so many times that night.” I laughed, remembering my amateur move to tag a high-traffic area. “I’ve memorized every single detail of that game. The park service had it painted over by the next night.”
“Is it hard? Seeing it painted over so soon? Why not put your stuff in a gallery and sell it? Allow the highest number of people to see it?”
“It’s not about that. It’s about the right people seeing it.”
I shoved a hand into my pocket, fishing out one of the slim cans of black spray paint I always kept on me. “Try it.”
She shook her head, soft waves flying around her face. “What would I do?”