Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
When I follow, he pounces like a predator. His eyes never meet mine as he peels my clothes off, and he fucks me so hard on our blanket pallet, I can barely keep from crying out.
“Tonight,” he says, after we finish, “I have to go to Manhattan.” He leans down, and his mouth claims mine. “When I’m there,” he says between hard kisses, “I’ll be thinking of you. Every second.”
There’s a new voracity to all of him. It’s enough to settle me down. The power of this thick and tangled knot between us feels near tangible. I hold onto it until I’m lying in my bed that night and find him tagged on Insa with a woman. Megan someone. Fifteen minutes later, they’re tagged again. I follow the link to Page Six—where a write-up of this charity dinner refers to her as his date, Megan Mason.
I look at the pictures again. Luke looks happy, at ease. I seek Megan out and find out that her family goes to Evermore. She’s not some stranger he was paired up with tonight. This woman is someone Luke knows.
Something shifts inside me. It’s…a tightening. I pace around the bedroom, but that doesn’t help. There’s this pressure on my chest. My thoughts are racing.
I climb to the fourth floor, where I lay the easel on its side and step on one of its legs until the wood snaps. I squeeze the fractured piece, test it out by waving it a little. Then I swing it at the wall. I hit it once, then twice, and then I just start screaming. It’s a sort of bellowed scream, like in the movies when somebody goes insane. I scream like until my voice cracks, till my eyes are hot with tears and my lungs ache and my hands shake with…rage.
“This fucking can’t be it! This can’t fucking be IT!” I flinch. Shit—my throat! I hear a keening sound—it came from me—and then I’m panting, crouching down and pulling at my hair. My throat is tight, my eyes stinging—because I don’t know how I can do this. How the fuck do I keep doing this with him?
My phone vibrates. For just a second, as I pull it out, I think of hurling it at the wall. I feel numb as I lift it to my ear. His words from my first day in San Francisco float through my head as I answer. He’s not the weak one. I am.
“Hello?” I rasp.
Loud, fast, hard breaths fill the phone line.
“Luke? Hey…”
Just gasps. A bunch of gasps and then a clipped moan, followed by more struggle breathing.
“Hey, McD. What’s up?” I swallow against my tortured throat and shut my eyes to try to find some center. “Sky?” He’s hyperventilating, I think. “Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”
His location comes via text, and I stare down at it. He’s at my house. No—he’s by that shoe store that’s half a block down. Fuck—but Carolina. I pull up my phone email and look at the last thing she sent. She’s on a long trip sometime…
I blow my breath out. Thank fuck. Looks like she’s back the day after tomorrow.
“Okay…look down the street there. See those neon blue lights on that big sign? That’s the Donut King. My place is right above it. There’s a door beside the donut place. Put in 113322 into the key pad, and take the stairs up.”
He’s still breathing heavy and harsh. I think I can hear him walking.
“Hey, man. Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Okay.” A minute or two later, I can hear him punching in the numbers. “There ya go. Now step inside and look on your right. There’s two cabinets, sort of locker-looking. The one numbered two is mine.” I wait as he goes in. “Put in a code there, on that locker. Are you ready for it?”
“Yeah,” he rasps.
“It’s 1109.” I hear him do that. “See a spare key? That one’s ours. Now just walk upstairs. Is it cold on the stairs? Or have things thawed since I got out here?”
No answer. He’s breathing hard again. I hear my door open. I shut my eyes, picture my place and him in his dinner clothes, but that makes me want to scream. Did Megan take his coat of? I inhale through my nose and blow out my mouth. Re-focus, Vanny.
“You’re okay now, Sky. You see the half wall? Behind that’s my room. Get yourself some water. Go tuck into my bed. I’ll stay on the line.”
I’m slightly surprised to hear the sink running.
A minute or two later, I hear the springs creak. He must be fucked if he’s getting in bed. What the hell happened?
“There’s a painting of your boat beside my bed. You see it?”
A moment later, I hear something whispered.
“What?”
“Prelude.”
“Yeah. That was sort of a prelude, wasn’t it?”