Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“So what now?” I take a deep breath, my voice barely above a whisper. “Am I supposed to just forget about what happened? Are we supposed to go back to the way things were, two and a half years ago, mind you? That’s a long time! And then what happens when you decide to make another choice, and it’s one that doesn’t involve me?”
I take a deep breath, trying to remain calm as I look at him for the first time since beginning my rant. He’s recoiled in his seat, wearing a look of torment, taking in my words, and listening.
“I can’t do it again. I can’t wait until you somehow decide that we wouldn’t work because I’m too young, or because I’m going for my Master’s, or because I was once your student, or whatever other asinine reason you may have. Or, hell,” I continue. “What if in a few months some other girl calls and says she’s pregnant?”
“Well, I can guarantee that won’t happen,” he tries to laugh off the fresh wounds I’ve inflicted.
I wave my hand in the air to stop him. “I don’t need to know all about the amazing sex you’ve been having.”
“There hasn’t been any,” he offers, and I give him a look of disbelief, because if he’s saying he hasn’t had sex in two and a half years then that’s a straight up lie.
“There’s been… other stuff,” he clarifies. “But no sex.”
“Whatever,” I brush it off, not wanting to get into it. “I don’t need to hear all about the amazing other stuff you’ve been up to then.”
“Amazing,” he laughs, and I look up. “Stuff with you is amazing. With everyone else it’s just stuff.”
I take another bite of my salad, wishing I didn’t know what he means. I pretend I don’t. Everything with him was different too. Better.
“I guess it would be foolish of me to assume that I’m no longer your only one?” He gives a half, sad smile.
“That’s a little personal for someone I haven’t talked to in so long,” I spit.
“You’re the one who brought it up,” he shrugs before returning to his salad, and I can’t help but watch the way he struggles to swallow it, like he’s eating poison. Not to mention, the way the table is now shaking with his incessant leg bouncing.
“Just call me Guinevere,” I sigh, closing my mouth tightly before I blurt out anything about the fact that I couldn’t get past him to be that intimate with anyone else. Besides, he’d be the only one who mattered anyway.
“Like a nun, huh? He smiles, getting my reference, and the news obviously pleases him. “Well, I’ve been quite the Lancelot,” he pauses. “Like a hermit since you’ve been gone.”
“You haven’t,” I roll my eyes. “Because you’ve clearly been busy doing stuff with whomever.”
The busboy clears his throat as he brings us each a glass of wine. I immediately grab mine and take a large gulp, letting the room temperature liquid slide down my throat. It burns, but feels good. Josh smiles, and I look down at the blood red drink to keep from falling under his trance.
“Why are you jealous?” I look back at him, his smirk doing wild things to me. Or maybe that’s just the fiery liquid talking.
“No,” I scowl.
“What about your boyfriend?” He takes his last forkful of salad.
“What about him?” I ask, before repeating his question. “Jealous?”
“Definitely,” he easily admits, and I clear my throat.
“It’s still new,” I shrug.
“Good.” I shake my head, annoyed.
“What?” He smiles. “I’m just seeing how easy it will be to get him out of the picture.”
“Josh!” I groan angrily.
“I always loved it when you said my name.”
“Josh!” I call again, trying to appear be sterner.
“Hey,” he shrugs. “You came to dinner with me after I told you this was a date. My intentions were perfectly clear, so I’m going to say my chances are pretty good.”
“Why are you so cocky?” I’m still shaking my head as the busboy returns to clear our salads.
I take another sip of wine, and the next thing I know, we’re stuck in some sort of staring contest, but I don’t let up.
Bring it, Mr. Harrington.
“So we’ll do this your way then,” he sighs heavily, looking away from my unwavering glare. “We’ll be friends.”
“If this was my way then this would be it,” I choke on my words. “This is our…” I swallow hard. “This is our goodbye.”
“We’ll be friends,” he repeats.
“We’ve never been friends,” I laugh at his persistence, and it nearly catches me off guard, because I haven’t laughed so naturally in such a long time.
“We’ve been the best of friends,” he flashes another smile, as if he actually treasured our time together. “You know more about me than anyone.”
“The thrill of me being your student is no longer there,” I point out, not believing I’m actually entertaining the idea of us being friends.