Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
“My smile?” I whisper.
“Yes, your smile, it melts me. Those dimples.” He bites my neck hard. “I fucking love them.” Of all the things I thought he would say, that was the last, but for some reason it means the most.
“Josh,” I whisper as I bring my hand up around the back of his neck. My head drops back again. No longer able to resist, I turn to face him, and we stand in silence. Our eyes lock.
“Can I help you in there? How are you going for sizes?” The idiot salesclerk is back. For fuck’s sake, will everybody stop interrupting us? I’m about to lose it. He jumps back and runs his both hands through his hair. Obviously as frustrated as I am.
“No thanks, I am taking the one I’ve got.”
Josh comes close to my ear and whispers. “You are not wearing that dress to the wedding.”
I frown at him. “Watch me.”
“I mean it, don’t fuck with me.”
I scowl at him. “You can’t tell me what to wear, Joshua.”
“Yes, I can, and since when have you called me Joshua?” he mutters as he leaves the change room. I narrow my eyes at myself in the mirror as I re-dress. I call you Joshua when you piss me off, asshole, and recently that’s all the bloody time.
I exit to see him at the cashier with his credit card out. He looks at me deadpan. I walk over and place the last two dresses on the counter and get my wallet out.
“I’ve got it,” he snaps. I roll my eyes and wish the annoying salesclerk would leave so I can tell him to fuck right off. Who does he think he is?
We walk to the car in silence. I’m not playing his stupid game. If he’s got the shits, then he can come clean about what. I’m not asking. He stalks into a coffee shop just where the car is parked. After ordering us two coffees he returns to where I have sat. He sits and starts to read the paper that has been left on the table. Am I in the twilight zone? What the hell just happened? One minute he is telling me my smile turns him on and biting my neck. The next minute he’s snapping orders. I’m too tired to deal with this shit today. I’ve hardly slept all week. I wait for my coffee in silence. His name is called, and he goes and retrieves our order. I take it without a thank you. If he wants rude, two can play at that game. He sips his coffee while watching me. I ignore him.
“You are not wearing that dress with Syral.”
“It’s Simon.” I roll my eyes. “And yes, I am. I gave you the chance to be my date and you turned it down, remember?”
He shakes his head as he drinks his coffee. “I told you, don’t threaten me.”
“And I told you, don’t tell me what to do.”
“When did I tell you what to do?”
“When you told me not to wear the dress.”
“I mean to the wedding for Christ’s sake. Someone will fuck you on the bridal table.”
I break into a smile—surely he can’t be serious. “You had better come then, to protect me.”
His eyes twinkle and he shakes his head. “Who will protect you from me?” He gives me a wink as he sips his coffee.
I smile. Bastard, he’s got me. “Are you coming or not?” “Yes,” he snaps.
Hah! I won. I chalk up a silent victory. “Can you take me home now?” I say sweetly as I bat my eyelids. “You’ve dragged me around the shops enough for today.” He smirks as he shakes his head.
The drive home is awkward. I am deep in thought about how I can prolong our visit and I have no idea what’s running through his mind. Twice though, he cracks his neck. So that’s a good sign. He pulls up at my house and turns off his car, but he seems nervous. I’m nervous—can I do this?
“Do you want to come up for coffee?” I grab his hand. I internally kick myself. Coffee, we just had frigging coffee. What a lame thing to say. He looks down at our entwined fingers as he swallows, and I can almost hear his brain ticking.
“It’s not a good idea, Presh.” The sound of him calling me Presh, which is short for precious, his pet name for me, opens a wound in my chest that I can’t deny. I nod, unable to speak. I can feel the tears forming. I don’t want to say goodbye. What’s going on with me? I’m acting like a lovesick fifteen-year-old. My eyes cloud over and I go to quickly get out of the car before he sees. Too late, he grabs me by the arm.
“What’s wrong?” he whispers. I shake my head, the lump in my throat blocking my vocals.