Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Despite my protests and how irrational it is, there is trust there.
If eyes are the window to the soul, then Dulcie’s soul is so damn pure. All I see shining in her eyes is continued sincerity.
“This isn’t just about helping my dad. It’s about you too. It’s about me. It’s about a world that’s bigger than all of us. I really want to get to know you. I want to spend time with you because I enjoy it. None of that has anything to do with anything you can do for me materially. I don’t want anything from you except what you can give, and I think you have so much just waiting to be discovered. I’ll make it simple. My heart wants to be tangled up in yours. That’s it.”
“I wouldn’t call that simple.”
“I would. For me, two minutes into meeting you, I think mine started to get lost.”
“Why aren’t you mad that I’m saying this?” I ask.
“Because you’re only trying to protect yourself,” she says earnestly.
She’s dropped everything, and all I can see is how vulnerable she is. She’s wrapping herself up and handing it over like a gift to me, and all I’m doing is pulling away, trying to give it back. After kissing her. I know how mixed up and messed up and wrong that is, but she’s not melting down. She’s trying so hard to understand, reacting with kindness and compassion instead of getting defensive and telling me I’m a fucking asshole.
I feel like a fucking asshole.
“I don’t want you to get hurt.” She grazes a kiss over my forehead again. The compression in my chest is unreal. It’s not just my lungs that are on fire. “I don’t want to be hurt either. This is about mending pain, not causing more. If you need more time, that’s fair. If you want us to get to know each other, that makes sense. It’s very wise. The flesh can burn itself up, but all fires eventually just get to that point where they have to simmer. I got carried away. I’ve never done that before. Despite what evidence I’ve given you to go on, I’m a very rational person, and I’ve been cautious about dating. I’ve never put my heart and soul into someone else’s hands.”
I have nothing. No words. I’ve never been so stripped down or felt so seen. She’s speaking right to my heart and soul, and it’s a lot to process.
Just leaving my house for the first time in years and heading across the country is almost more than I can bear.
My head isn’t quite coping, and it’s giving the corresponding signals to my body. Even though I’m lying down, there’s still a distinct possibility I could pass out.
“Are you okay?” she asks, sounding concerned.
“No.” I blink up at her, trying to get my shit together. I’m the older one. I’m the one who is supposed to be mature and have all the answers. I should be the one protecting her, but instead, she’s in a soaked dress, and I’m panicking. “I’m a wreck. You?’
“I’m just wet and sticky. Let’s pull over and get some air. I think you just need to breathe, but it’s dark and airless back here, and I read somewhere that you’re not supposed to open the windows on a party bus.”
“There’s an intercom near the front.” I want to point, but my hand won’t even do that much. I’m way too hot. She’s right. It’s closed in back here, and the air is thick to the point of being humid.
She gets up and walks quietly to the front. She finds the intercom, and the driver’s voice comes over it. She asks so politely if we could stop at the next rest stop, but preferably a town if there’s one close by, so she can do some laundry. He laughs like she’s joking, and she laughs too, but says she’s serious. And she’s also starving, but if laundry is possible first, that would be great. I think I hear him tell her that we’ll be somewhere in twenty minutes and that he’ll do his best to find what she needs, but it’s a blur.
Everything comes at me from far away until, suddenly, Dulcie is beside me again, guiding my head into her lap and pressing something cold to the side of my face. It’s a water bottle from the fridge.
The burst of frigid cold jerks me back to reality. “How are you so sure of yourself? Of me? Of this?” I groan.
“I’m not. This is just what my freaking out looks like. I tend to do it internally. I’m pretty scared, and I’m wildly out of control. But remember how I said that in times of disaster, you should put your faith in one thing? Well, that one thing is this working out.”