Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Tyler’s eyes traced the words several times before they found me, and I expected him to ask questions, to wonder how in the world I could possibly feel that way. How could I have millions of listeners, of followers, of people who looked to me for entertainment and advice every single day and still feel so insecure?
But he didn’t ask.
In fact, he looked at me in a way that told me he knew exactly what I felt.
Because he felt it, too.
After a moment, he nodded, looking at the sentence on his phone screen once more before he set it to the side. Then, he let out a slow breath, and scooted his stool a little closer to mine.
In the next breath, his hands reached out to frame my face, and everything in my body froze.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t blink. I couldn’t move away from his grasp or lean into it, though the urge to do both hit me in equal measure.
All I could do was sit there, stiff and silent, as Tyler Wagner searched my eyes with his own, his thumbs smoothing over the skin of my jaw, his fingers curled at the back of my neck.
He held me there for the longest time, studying me, not saying a word.
Then, he leaned in on a breath, his forehead touching mine, and a shaky inhale slipped through my lips.
“You are spectacular, Jasmine Olsen,” he whispered, his eyes closing as my chest split open. “Don’t ever forget that.”
My heart pounded in my chest, in my ears, in my throat — pulsing so hard I felt it throbbing in every inch of my body. I still couldn’t catch a full breath, not even when he lifted his forehead, lifted his gaze, and especially not when his eyes were watching mine again.
And then, the front door blew open, and a flurry of commotion came with it.
“… to be fair, there is a very big difference between clementine and tangerine,” Morgan said somewhere in the foyer, and I heard the distinct laughter of her parents, and something mumbled in return by Oliver.
In the same moment, Tyler’s phone buzzed on the kitchen counter — so loud and insistent that it made the device crawl like a bug.
The name Azra indicated who the call was from, and my stomach dropped at the sight of her — of her long, black hair blowing in the breeze on the coast where she stood, her brown eyes wide and playful, her smile dazzling. She had eyebrows I would pay someone to tattoo on my face and still not be able to attain, and there was something sensual about her, something that felt like a hot summer night in a foreign country. On top of tan legs that stretched on for days where they peeked out from the slit in her long, hot pink dress, it was painstakingly clear.
She was absolutely gorgeous.
And I’d wished I’d never had to see her.
Tyler quickly released me, sniffing like he’d just realized what he’d done at the same time Jacob’s name echoed inside me as if I had done something wrong, too. And without another word or glance in my direction, Tyler swiped his phone off the counter, answered with a quiet, “Hey there, beautiful,” and snuck out the door that led from the kitchen to the back porch, leaving me alone at the island.
I stared at the door he walked through with my heart hammering in my chest, with his words pricking my skin like tiny needles.
“Jazzy!” Morgan said, sweeping into the room all smiles. She wrapped me in a fierce hug, shaking me side to side. “I brought you lobster bisque from the best place on the Cape! How are you feeling?”
She appraised me when she pulled back, still holding me in her arms, and I tore my eyes from the back door to force a smile.
Then, I held up my right thumb, giving her the sign that I was feeling better, knowing in my gut that I was anything but good in that moment.
She clapped, hugged me again, and launched into all the details of her day.
And outside, there was the distant sound of something splashing into the pool.
Morgan was a tornado in human form.
She had always been this way, ever since the first day I met her — which just so happened to be my first day at Bridgechester Prep High School. It was Tyler who’d approached me first, who’d watched me from afar in the halls all morning and then made his way over to me, asking if I wanted to sit with him at lunch, asking who I was, where I’d come from.
Seeing me.
Sometimes, I dreamed about that day, and in such vivid detail that I woke up with a sheen of sweat on my chest. In the dream, I’d see Tyler exactly as he was that day — young, boyishly shy, charming in a way I hadn’t ever been exposed to. I could see the first smile he flashed me, hear the first time I made him laugh, see the curiosity in his eyes — curiosity that made heat bloom deep in my stomach, a fire that never did die.