Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
I want to believe him so, so bad. But should I?
“Please.”
We're swaying now, barely moving, just the smallest shifts back and forth. His thumb is rubbing small circles on my waist through my shirt, and I can feel each one like a brand. Like he's marking me. Like he's trying to erase every touch Kimberly left on his arm with each circle his thumb makes on my waist.
One circle. Two. Three. I'm counting them without meaning to.
"Last night," he says. "The phone call. I told you I would explain."
"You don't have to—"
"The team wants me back." He says it abruptly. Like ripping off a bandage. "For the next season. They are offering a contract extension. Three more years."
“O-Oh."
"I have not decided yet."
"Why not?"
"Because—" He stops. His hand tightens on mine. Tightens on my waist. Like he's anchoring himself. Or me. Or both of us. "Because for the first time in my life, I am not sure what I want. And that phone call—it was my manager. Telling me I need to decide. Soon."
"How soon?"
"Two weeks."
My head reels.
Two...weeks?
As in...fourteen days.
336 hours.
I need to think of it in terms of hours so I don’t start hyperventilating.
"Thea." His voice has gone softer. Rougher. "Look at me."
I've been staring at his chest. At the space between us that isn't space anymore. At the place where my hand rests against his shoulder and I can feel the warmth of him through the fabric of his jacket.
I look up.
His eyes are dark and intense and completely focused on me. Like I'm the only person in this crowd. Like I'm the only person in the world.
"I do not know what I am going to decide," he says quietly. "But I know that when I make that decision, you will be part of it."
I start shaking my head, but this only makes him pull me closer, just enough that there's less than an inch between us now, just enough that I have to tilt my head back to keep looking at his face. “I need you to believe me, Thea.”
His breath stirs my hair, and my cheek touches his chest.
I can hear his heartbeat, and it’s...fast. Surprisingly so. Maybe even faster than mine.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
I close my eyes as our bodies continue to sway.
Barely.
Just the smallest movement back and forth.
His hand is spread across my waist now, fingers splayed, covering what feels like my entire ribcage. His other hand holds mine against his chest, and I can feel his heartbeat there too.
Two heartbeats. His and mine. And I'm not sure where one ends and the other begins.
The song is ending. I can hear it fading. But he doesn't let go.
Doesn't step back.
Just holds me there for one more second. Two. Three.
Like he's memorizing this. Like he's counting too.
Then the song ends completely.
Silence.
And in that silence, I hear him say, so quietly I almost miss it: "Two weeks."
"Two weeks," I whisper back.
"And then?"
"And then I decide." He pulls back just enough to look at me. Just enough that I have to tilt my head back again. "But Thea. I need you to know—whatever I decide—"
Someone bumps into us.
A couple dancing too enthusiastically to the next song that's starting.
They laugh, apologize, move away.
And the moment shatters.
He steps back. Lets go of my waist. But his hand lingers in mine for one beat longer than necessary. Two beats. Three.
Then he releases me.
The professional mask is sliding back into place. I can see it happening in real-time—the warmth dimming, the walls going back up, the distance returning like a tide.
"Thank you for the dance.”
All I can do is nod. He’s back to sounding like a stranger, and it intimidates me. Confuses me. Hurts me.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Seven-twenty-three."
I nod and quickly turn away...because I think I’ll cry if I let myself see him walk back to Kimberly.
Jolie looks at me searchingly when I get back to her. “Everything okay?”
I’m not sure how to answer that, but what I’m suddenly sure of is that my friend knows something. It’s fairly easy to tell when you get to know Jolie well enough.
“What is it you’re not telling me?”
“There were reporters around earlier. I overheard people talking about them. And I think that’s why he allowed himself to be seen with Kimberly.”
“I see.”
But...I don’t.
Not really.
Was that what he couldn’t tell me? Was that what he didn’t want me to understand? Why he would rather have the reporters see him with Kimberly...and not me?
I DON'T SEE HIM AGAIN for the rest of the festival.
By four o'clock, the sculptures are melting into abstract puddles, and the vendors are packing up, and I’ve just finished loading empty cider containers into Gail’s truck. My face is still pink from the cold, my hair is falling out of its ponytail, and I’ve just noticed this huge cider stain on my shirt when I turn around...and find myself face to face with the last person I had hoped to bump into.