Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
For some reason, the sight of him rubs me the wrong way. Maybe it’s the designer jeans that probably cost more than I earned at work last weekend. Or his perfect, just-the-right-amount-of-tousled haircut by a barber I could never afford. I don’t need his worry. Or his pity. Or anything from him, really.
“It’s fine,” I grunt.
He clearly doesn’t believe me, because he saunters over. His strides are long, his expression unfazed. Anybody else would read my body language, the thundercloud darkening my face, and walk in the other direction. But not him.
“What’s going on?” he says quietly.
“Nothing. It’s all good, Hayworth.” I take a step. “Let’s play some more poker.”
“Nah.”
I roll my eyes, taking another step. “Suit yourself.”
A hand curls over my biceps. “Come on, Bailey.”
My gaze slides down to his fingers. His thumb lightly grazes my shoulder. I swallow. “Come on, what? I told you, everything’s fine.” Despite myself, a taunt rises in my throat. “Besides, suddenly we’re talking again? You’ve been ignoring me for three days.”
The moment the words pop out, I regret them. I don’t want Keaton to know that I noticed, or that it bothers me.
“I wasn’t ignoring you. I was working on a paper and didn’t want any distractions.”
“What paper? Nice try, but it’s the beginning of the semester.” And why am I acting like a little bitch all of a sudden? I should be glad he’s been avoiding me. It means that I’ve been able to avoid the awkward morning-after chat in which I’d have to tell him I’m not interested.
“I got short-listed for this internship I applied for,” Keaton says quietly. “The final applicants are required to send a two-thousand-word essay.”
“Uh-huh.” His eyes tell another story, though. And because I don’t always do what’s good for me, I won’t let it go. “If you got freaked out, you could just say so. Wouldn’t be the first guy who couldn’t handle the truth.”
His flinch is swift.
I sigh, because what I’ve said is true, even if it wasn’t very sensitive. “Never mind. It’s no big deal.” I step around him and leave the kitchen, heading for the stairs.
By the time I’ve climbed a few steps, I hear footsteps behind me. He’s on my heels on the second floor landing. And then he continues all the way up to the third floor, damn it.
“What?” I bark, turning around in front of our bathroom. “You have something to say?”
“Yeah.” He drops his voice down low. “You’re right. I did get freaked out. But not only because you’re a dude.”
“Really? Why, then? I’ve had enough of guys who want me to make them scream, only to turn around after and say it’s unnatural or some shit.”
Keaton actually snorts. “Anyone who uses the word unnatural to describe sex hasn’t spent any time in nature. Nature is crude and coarse and up for anything. I’m too much of a scientist to ever say that.”
“What is it, then?” If he’s telling the truth, I’m probably about to become even more offended. If it’s not that I’m a guy, then it’s personal?
“It freaked me out that I wanted…” A burst of laughter comes from one of the closed doors on the second floor. It’s just some brothers playing a video game or watching a movie.
Our eyes meet, and his look wary. Then he looks away. I watch him grab the whiteboard off of his own door. It’s the board where you can leave messages for him. I guess I need one of those for next year when I’m president.
Keaton uncaps the pen with his teeth and writes on it.
My breath hitches when I read what he’s said.
It freaked me out that you’re a guy. And that I let you take the lead. Part of me wants to forget it happened. Most of me wants you to do it again.
Ah fuck. Our eyes meet one more time, and there’s heat in his gaze. He erases the board with his fist, caps the pen and hangs the thing back on the door. Then he turns around and trots back down the stairs and goes back, I assume, to the poker game.
All I can do is stare after him for a long moment. I’m stunned, although it does make sense. If Keaton has been screwing the same girl since they were both teenagers, I suppose my bossy ass would be kind of educational.
Ask me nicely, I’d demanded.
Please, suck it, he’d said.
An evil grin spreads across my face, right there in the hallway. As I unlock the door to my room, I like knowing that I blew his mind.
He enjoyed my bossy ass. He liked it so much that he couldn’t even say it. He had to write it on a whiteboard instead.
I halt in the center of my room as the implication of that settles in. Keaton’s confusion, his reluctance to voice his needs…it’s a bad sign.