Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 71595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
The tiniest sob escapes me as I lose my will to fight.
I love him. I still love him. I will always love him.
He pulls away then, saying quietly, “I’m sorry.”
“That’s not what I want to hear,” I say brokenly. “I just want you to say you love me.”
And yet he only looks at me.
“D-do you?”
But he just keeps looking at me, and the silence is even more painful now.
Oh God.
I’m about to give up when he suddenly grips my hair, dragging me close, and as our mouths meet, he whispers against my lips, “Always.”
But his voice is heartbreakingly bleak, like it hurts him to love me.
Why?
I want to ask him about it, but he’s started kissing me senseless, and all thoughts fade from my mind. Next time, I promise myself dizzily before surrendering myself to his kisses, I’ll ask.
Next time.
But by then it’s too late, and the boy I love...didn’t love me anymore.
Word of the Day: Kabe-Don, n.
1. A portmanteau of the Japanese words ‘kabe’ (wall) and ‘don’ (the sound of something or someone hitting a wall);
2. A situation in which a girl finds herself backed against a wall as a hot guy closes in
3. The shoujo anime’s version of being trapped between a rock and a hard place
Blog #654
Have you guys read Love Blog!! by Akira Fujiwara? I’ve been devouring a lot of josei manga lately, and Love Blog is one of my recent discoveries – and favorites. In the manga, the MC doesn’t end up with her first love – or even the first one who took her V-card. I don’t think we get to meet her first love until we’re several chapters in, and the first guy she bangs isn’t even the guy she was in love with at that time.
Shocker, I know. I’m strictly into the virginal-MC type (fictional preference, is all) of romance so I was all whoa when I read it, and the more I read, the more I kept thinking...this is how my life should be. The MC makes mistakes, forgives herself for it, and moves on.
However...it’s easier said than done. I made a mistake, haven’t forgiven myself for it, and I’ve been hung up on it...for three years now.
But I think it’s time to change that.
I think...it’s time to say goodbye to the shoujo phase of my life and say hello to the new josei chapter.
In normal speak: I’m going to move on.
I used to think it was okay to keep hurting. I thought that was how it should to be, that you had to wait for your feelings to die instead of killing it. But now I’m thinking that’s not right. Or at least only shoujo girls can get away with being so idealistic. But in the “real” world of josei – moving on is just that: moving on.
Even if you still hurt, even if you still can’t forget, even if you still love, foolishly—-
You just move on.
THE PALACE OF THE EMIR Sheikh of Ramil
Two months ago
The man in front of me is tall, dark, and handsome; he’s also powerful and wealthy, an alpha to the core. Textbook josei hero material really, and if I were back to my usual fantasizing self, I’d be furiously scribbling plot points in my mind now.
Desert sheikh. Impoverished scholar. Sparks fly.
But things have changed, and all I can do is swallow nervously before stammering a greeting. “Good morning, Your, umm—-” My mind goes blank. Oh, shite. How does one address a sheikh anyway? And what if said sheikh is cousin to the Emir Sheikh? Would that make a difference?
When I look at the sheikh, mortified at my gaffe, the sheikh deadpans, “Your Umm would do.” He pauses. “Assuming, of course, Umm means I’ve rendered you speechless by my good looks.”
My mouth opens and closes. Did the sheikh just flirt with me? I’m still trying to rewind the past ten seconds in my mind when the sheikh says politely, “That was a joke, by the way.”
Oh. Right. I should have known he was just kidding.
The sheikh gestures to the seating area of his office, saying, “Please have a seat. I’ll be joining you shortly.” He turns his back on me soon after, and I’m thankful for this since it saves me from replying. Until I figure out how sheikhs should be addressed, I’d rather not say a word.
The white sofa matches the rest of his pristine-white and perfectly symmetrical office, making me think the sheikh is someone who doesn’t just like staying in control but gets a kick out of it, too. I’m still trying to make up my mind about whether that’s good or bad when the sheikh joins me, a thick brown folder in his hands—-
Wait a minute.
Is that my name on the folder?
“Thank you for coming to meet me despite the short notice, Ms. Chariot.”