Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 152064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
“Are you okay?” His voice is gentle, piteous.
I hate it. “I’m fine.”
“Talls.”
I can’t decide if I want to scream or cry.
“Do you need a ride home?” Flip asks.
“I’m good.” Definitely cry.
I try to brush past him as we step off the elevator.
“Please let me drive you home,” Flip says.
I bite my lips together, fighting the stupid tears that threaten to embarrass me. He’s already witnessed two of my worst moments, why not add another? “Okay. Thank you.”
I follow him to his car.
“Did your dad bail on you?” Flip asks.
“Yup. And he was ready to bail on me for you first, so I guess I know where I sit on his list of priorities.”
“He loves you, Tally,” Flip says gently.
“He’s terrible at showing it. He’s used to everyone bending for him. He’s always in charge. Except he’s not in charge of my feelings, so he’s running away from them, and me, and that really fucking hurts.” And didn’t Flip do the same thing at New Year’s?
“I’m sorry.” Flip’s fingers brush the back of my hand.
I step out of reach. “I don’t need your pity, Flip.”
Everything about him softens. “That’s not what this is.”
“Isn’t it, though? I came all the way here and my dad blew me off, I feel sorry enough for me for the both of us.”
The drive to my apartment is tense. I have so many things I want to say, but I’m too shredded to form the right thoughts. Everything hurts, and I’m too much in my feelings. Flip is taking care of me again, which levels up my anger at my dad.
He pulls up in front of my building and turns to me. “Tally, about what happened at New—”
“Please don’t, Phillip. My heart won’t survive another hit right now.” I can’t handle hearing him say he’s sorry for almost kissing me. For giving me the wrong impression. “Thanks for the ride.”
I leave the car before he can say any of those things.
CHAPTER 12
FLIP
Tally races up the steps to her apartment building. Running away from me the same way I ran from her on New Year’s. I can’t keep doing this.
All week I’ve been off. Struggling to sleep, to eat, to not think about how good it felt to spend time with her at the lodge. To not fixate on how close I’d been to finding out how soft her pretty lips are. I miss our text conversations over books, her laugh, the way her face lights up when she’s excited about something. I miss her.
I can’t see her as Coach’s Off-Limits Daughter anymore. Not after New Year’s. I was territorial, possessive, I wanted her all to myself.
I want her all to myself.
My craving for her, be more to her, is almost unbearable.
I don’t want to shut her out or shut her down. Not again. Seeing her today settled me for the first time since New Year’s. I can’t let her run away.
Everything I’ve been afraid of—messing with our friend group, the wrath of my teammates, her dad murdering me—all of it pales in comparison to the pervasive fucking ache that’s rooted in my chest. And the idea of someone else stepping in to claim her heart, I can’t let it happen. I won’t. Whatever shitstorm I bring on, I’ll weather it. She’s more than worth the risk. And it’s about time I showed her.
I park in the closest public lot and follow someone into her building. I helped move Tally into this apartment, along with the rest of the Terror guys and her girlfriends. There’s a common space to the right of the entrance, along with a café, a pharmacy, and a couple of fast-food restaurants where students mill around. I keep my head down and wait for the elevator.
I’m joined by half a dozen students, all with full backpacks. A guy who’s at least a head taller than everyone else, wearing a Tilton Hockey baseball cap, tips his head.
I glance at him, give him a small smile, and nod.
His eyes flare as he registers who I am.
Thankfully we reach Tally’s floor, and I step out before he says anything.
The smell of burned toast, pizza, and something sweet fills the hall. I stop outside Tally’s apartment and run my hands down my thighs, suddenly nervous. What I’m about to do will change things again. Not being able to just pull her into my arms and hug her almost fucking killed me back at the Terror office. I want to be the person she comes to when she’s hurting. I want to be in her text messages every day. The alternative is unthinkable.
I knock on her door.
The silence stretches on for so long I worry I have the wrong apartment. But eventually I hear footfalls and a muffled, “Oh, God.” Followed by, “Just a second!”
Another minute passes before the door swings open.