Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“Hello?”
Silence.
I look down at my phone, seeing it’s an unknown caller. I bring it back to my ear. “Who is this?”
They hang up with a click and I squeeze the phone in my hand, my thoughts drifting back to what Nate said last night about strange callers.
The door opens, bringing me out of my frantic thoughts. I freeze when I see it’s Nate, because of course it is. Only he would barge in like he owns the place—which he actually does.
“Hey,” I say, my eyes going to his.
I can already see the malice all over his face, so when he comes straight up to me, picking me up from the ground and hooking my legs around his waist, I’m not all that surprised. Part of me is, though, because it’s starting to feel so much like it did when we first got together. Rekindled loves don’t have much of a success rate. The only kind that last a second round are the ones whose spark was volatile enough to burn and simmer perpetually. Did we have that? I’m not so sure.
He whispers into the crook of my neck. “I need you.” the simplicity of his words knock the doubt out of me. Yes, we did.
I whack him, my head tilting back as I contain my laugh. “You can’t just come in here and say I need you and expect me to just open my legs for you!”
He tilts his head in the adorable way he does and bites down on his bottom lip, his dimples sinking into both cheeks. “Really? Because I mean,” he squeezes my thighs—that are open. Chuckling, he puts me back down onto the ground. “Just kidding, Tillz, chill, fuck. You think too much into everything. I’m not fucking asking you to be my girl or anything.” Okay so maybe not.
My mouth pops open, and then slams shut, but then pops open again when I realize what he has just said. Luckily Micaela is asleep, or I’d be throwing shit right now. He goes over to her crib. “I just fucking miss her. Drives me crazy.”
I’m still trying to decide whether or not I’m going to bite. “I never said anything about me being your girlfriend, Nate,” I whisper. I aim for neutral, but the nip at the end of each syllable would prove otherwise. Nate picks that up, because he’s smart. He’s leaning over the crib, his arms tensing as he grips the edge. His head is hanging low, watching Micaela sleep, but as soon as those words leave my mouth, his hooded eyes come up to mine, a smirk on his stupid mouth. “Good. Don’t want any confusion here.”
“None at all,” I declare. Maybe I answered that a little too fast.
“You answered too fast.”
“Fuck you. Are you done?” I hate how he gets to me, but we’ve always been different. This is why I always thought he and Tate would’ve made a better couple. They made more sense because they both had no issues with sleeping around.
His eyes don’t move from mine. “You’re coming with me tonight.”
“What?” I cross my arms in front of myself. “To where?”
He stands straight. I can’t read his expression. What the hell is with everyone and their unreadable faces? This world sucks. “Be ready at nine. Mom already knows she has Micaela.” He turns to leave, but just before he steps outside and closes the door, he cranks his head over his shoulder, smirking. “And wear something short and tight.”
He steps out and shuts the door before I can swear at him. Daemon’s book is now squashed to the back of my brain, although it’s ties are still latched onto me by a thread.
I reach for my phone, dialing Madison. She answers after a few rings. “Hola.”
“What’s happening tonight and why is Nate picking me up at nine?”
If I can’t get any answers out of Nate, I’m cashing in on girl code.
“What? He’s bringing you?”
I pause. “Bringing me where?”
Just when I think she’s not going to say anything, she exhales loudly. “Wow. Okay, um, on a run. It starts at a meeting point and—you’ll see. Bishop is here now, but hey, can we talk tonight?”
“Of course?” I say, confused why she would need to ask if we could talk. We hang up and I go around cleaning everything quickly while Micaela is asleep. It’s just after six when I’m finally nestled in bed with Micaela, gazing at my phone.
I know that I shouldn’t.
I mean, I really know that I shouldn’t.
I pick up my phone and hit dial.
“Well, this is unsuspected,” Peyton purrs down the phone.
I briefly choke on my words, and then clear my throat. “Ah, yeah…” there’s a reason why I was calling her, and I need to get to that reason now. “Where are you?”
She scoffs, and I’m reminded why I really don’t like her, regardless whether she is my sister by blood. “Like I’d tell you.”