Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 14285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 71(@200wpm)___ 57(@250wpm)___ 48(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 71(@200wpm)___ 57(@250wpm)___ 48(@300wpm)
“Let’s get this out of the way, Heather.” She perks up at the seriousness in my voice. “I’m sorry for all the things I did to you. There was no malice or bad intentions behind them, I promise you.”
“Then why did you do them?”
Well damn.
It’s time to come clean. Otherwise, this whole pretend dating is not going to work. And I want it to work so badly that it becomes real. That we become real. Once the truth is laid bare, I hope she can forgive me. I don’t expect her to understand because I didn’t understand it myself back then.
Only when I graduated college did I realize how I wasted so many years making her hate me instead of the other way around.
“Heather, I just wanted you to notice me. I didn’t know how else to do it.”
Her mouth parts slightly, her forehead creasing in confusion or disbelief or both. “W-what?”
Man, confessing is not as easy as movies make it out to be. I don’t know how many times I’ve practiced telling her, but at this moment, my mind goes blank. All the well-rehearsed lines—some romantic, some downright cringe—fly out the window, and what I’m left with is the most basic truth lodged in my throat.
“Baron, don’t go silent on me. What do you mean?”
“Ah, fuck it.” Gripping the edges of the table, my knuckles white, I stare at Heather with everything in me, hoping, praying she doesn’t think I’m pranking her. That this is the real deal. The real me. “I like you, Heather. Always have. It was stupid and immature, bullying you so you’d notice me, but I would have flown under your radar had I not done it.”
Heather’s drink is arrested halfway to her mouth, and she gives me an incredulous stare, her jaw hanging open. She clears her throat before she speaks. “You wouldn’t have.”
“What?”
“Flown under my radar.”
Her voice is so soft and quiet that I strain to hear it. I understand her words, but I refuse to believe it. I’ve pranked her for years, so if she does the same, I won’t even be surprised. “Why not?”
She traces the rim of her wine glass with her finger. “Because you’re the hottest guy in school? Not to mention you’re funny. Humor and good looks are a deadly combo, especially if you weren’t an ass.”
I give her my most flirtatious smile. “Hottest, huh?”
She lifts one shoulder. “Not my words. That’s what everyone said.”
“But did you agree?”
“You are not cornering me like this, and I did say you were an ass, so that cancels it out.”
That’s the thing with Heather. She doesn’t know how to lie, and if she does, she does it so badly. The truth is always on her face. She’s an open book, and that makes her a breath of fresh air from everyone else who’s fake and pretentious.
I let her be … this time. “Fine. Will you dance with me?”
Heather scrunches her nose like the very idea is disgusting and preposterous. “Why?”
“We need to practice. You said it’s a masquerade ball, right? I’d really hate for you to spend five minutes just stepping on my toes.”
“Oh, I will step on them just for shits and giggles.” She rolls her eyes and drops her napkin on the table. “You know how to waltz?”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “My sister forced me to learn them for her 18th birthday.” I stand and extend a hand to her. “Now, will you do me the honor of giving me this dance?”
“If you insist.” She places her small hand in mine, and a jolt goes through my body. I make a pathetic attempt to dial back the desire coursing through me, but her skin against mine doesn’t help.
Damn. I’m acting like a hormonal virgin. Lusting after her from afar is one thing, but touching her like this is another. How the hell am I supposed to go back to my boring, mediocre life if I already know how it is to be by her side?
As my fingers graze her palm and her eyes meet mine, something long buried deep inside me rushes to the surface. I knew I had a massive crush on Heather and was obsessed with her. But leading her to the polished wooden floor in the middle of the restaurant, I realize something terrifying—I might have mistaken love for lust.
Heather faces me, her hand resting lightly on my shoulder. I hold her hand in mine while the other hand goes to the small of her back. Such a simple gesture. Could’ve been innocent. Something couples or even non-couples do to dance.
But she might as well have set me on fire.
She’s so close I can smell her perfume—some kind of light vanilla. There may have been others on the dance floor, but it’s as if we’ve stepped into another world—a world where only she and I exist.