Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“It was a lot,” I agreed again.
“Come on,” he said, reaching for my hand.
I wasn’t sure what to expect when we went into his apartment, but it definitely wasn’t for him to order in Greek food for us to eat while we cuddled on the couch and watched The Lord of the Rings. Two extended-cut movies later, it was dark outside, Bas was in the bathroom, and I started gathering up my stuff.
“I need to bring the truck back before my dad sends out a search party,” I announced as he jogged back down the stairs. “I’m surprised he hasn’t called yet.”
“You wanna stay here tonight?” he asked, walking toward me. “I can follow you to your parents’ house and bring you back.”
I was still feeling a little off after the morning we’d had, but I nodded anyway. Bas hadn’t kept his hands to himself as we’d watched the movies, but there’d been nothing sexual in the way he’d touched me. It was comfort he’d been providing, both for me and, I think, for himself. I wanted to come back. I wanted to strip off our clothes and not have to think about anything else but how good it was between us. Honestly, I was a little desperate to convince myself that what we had was solid, at least in that small part.
Bas followed me out of the house, but he was a little bit behind me when I drove toward home. I didn’t think much of it because he knew the way, and if I got there before him, I could say hello to my parents and thank my dad for letting us borrow the truck before I left again. I was driving carefully because it was wet and dark outside, but there were barely any cars on the road.
When lights shone in the back windshield, I frowned. My dad’s truck wasn’t lifted, but it still sat pretty high, so lights coming from behind usually didn’t even register. I glanced at the rearview mirror and winced at how bright it was.
Slowing down a little, I waited for the car behind me to pass. If they were in a hurry, they were welcome to go around me. Except, they didn’t. They just continued following, far too close, with their bright lights shining into the truck.
I considered pulling over to the side of the road, but with everything so dark, I was afraid I’d hit a branch or something and fuck up the paint or the wheels on the truck.
Holding the steering wheel tightly in both hands, I continued toward home, cursing under my breath. It would’ve been so easy for them to go on their merry way and leave me to it.
I was relieved when they seemed to back off, letting more distance fall between us as we got further out of town. They must’ve finally realized that no matter how obnoxious they were, I wasn’t going to speed up.
I’d just begun to relax when suddenly the lights shone brightly in the cab again, and then I was flying forward in my seat, my face hitting the steering wheel with a sickening crunch. My eyesight went dark as I instinctively slammed my foot down on the brake, but even without being able to see it, I could feel when the Chevy left the road.
I came to a stop perpendicular to the road, staring blearily into the dark forest beyond.
“Oh, my god,” I whispered, reaching up as I felt wet dripping off my chin. I pulled my hand away to find blood covering my fingertips. “Oh no.”
My dad was going to be so pissed. Cupping my hands under my face, I tried to catch the blood before it hit the upholstery.
“Harper?” Bas yelled from somewhere to my left. I couldn’t see anything beyond the illumination from the headlights.
“Oh, my god,” I whispered again, starting to cry.
He whipped open my door, and his face filled my vision, his eyes wide with fear.
“Are you okay?” he barked, looking me over. “Harp? Are you okay?”
“The truck,” I groaned. “Did you see that guy hit me?”
“Someone hit you?” Bas asked, his tone changing in an instant as he reached for my seat belt.
“They rear-ended me,” I replied, still trying to catch the blood. “I smacked my face on the steering wheel, and then I was in the fucking trees!”
“Whoa, slow down,” Bas ordered as I flung myself out of my seat.
“What an asshole,” I yelled, tripping toward the back of the truck. I got a blurry look at the tailgate and groaned. It was ruined. “My dad is going to fucking kill me.”
“You need to sit down, baby,” Bas said, lifting his phone to his ear as he helped me sit down in the muddy grass. “Stay here,” he ordered as he took off at a jog toward where he’d parked his bike on the shoulder of the road.