Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
I pause in front of the mirror. The tall one by the door. Pixie blushes every time we pass by it. Every time I kiss her in front of it or make her look at our reflections together, she ducks her head and elbows my chest. Abel, you’re shameless. It doesn’t matter that she loves it as much as me, that it gets her hot in two seconds flat, she pretends to be outraged.
A vice tightens around my heart, my throat, and my breathing stutters. I have to clench my eyes shut and dig a fist to my chest so I can take a proper breath.
The phone’s still pressed to my ear and I continue, “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for whatever I did, for whatever I said, but you need to talk to me. You need to pick up your phone. I gave you your space. You’ve had an entire night. Now you’ve gotta talk to me. Right fucking now, all right? I’m coming to get you. You can’t stay at Blu’s forever. I’m coming, and Pixie?” I blow out a breath. “Stay put. I can’t have you getting lost again.”
I don’t want to cut off the call but I do it. I wanna keep myself connected to her however I can but I need to run now. I need to go get her from Nick and Blu’s house. Enough of this space shit.
But before I can leave, my eyes get stuck on the mirror, on my reflection, again. My eyes are red-rimmed, ragged from lack of sleep. Pixie says my eyes remind her of maple syrup and that every time I look at her she gets hungry for chocolate chip pancakes. I don’t know if it’s a compliment or what that I make her hungry for food, but I’ll take it.
She loves playing with my hair, says it’s the softest thing she’s ever touched. The strands are sticking up right now, like she’s just run her fingers all over them. My shirt’s wrinkled, as well. She hates black but I wear it because I know it gets her all worked up.
Abel, you need color in your life.
I’ve got you for that. All pretty and pink.
The hollow of my throat shows through the neck of the shirt; she loves tucking her nose in there. The veins on my arms stand out thick and taut; she loves tracing her finger along them. She loves comparing our palms, her small ones to my longer ones.
The silver cross she keeps sucking on lies in the middle of my heaving chest. There was a time when this necklace reminded me of my mom, her gentle laughter and sweet voice, but now all I can think about is Pixie’s perfect pink lips caressing the edges of it, her teeth biting on it as I pound into her.
She loves using me as a pillow while sleeping, though she says I heat her up too much and tries to move away. I don’t let her go too far though. I drag her back. In winter when we used to spend time up in her treehouse, she’d cuddle beside me because of my body heat. It’s not winter in New York yet, but she’s gonna need me to warm her up.
Everything I am, every single part of my body, is deliberately, thoughtfully designed for her. Maybe, before dying, that fucking god of hers did one thing right. He created me for her and He molded her for me.
Where the fuck did it all go wrong?
You’ve lost all control.
***
She isn’t at their apartment.
Last night, she went to a coffee shop with Blu and stayed there for a few hours, before coming back to their place and spending the night there. But in the morning, she left. Not for our apartment but to go somewhere else.
“She left? You fucking let her go,” I bellow at Blu, who looks calm, as if everything is fine. As if slowly, bit by bit, I’m not losing my grip on reality.
“I’m not her keeper. She wanted to leave so I let her go. She’s not a child, Abel. She’s allowed to go places.”
I growl, “Are you out of your mind? She gets lost. She doesn’t have any sense of direction. She doesn’t even have any money.”
“I gave her some.” She sighs. “Look, before she left she asked me to tell you that she’ll call you. That you shouldn’t look for her. She’ll come to you when she’s ready. Oh, and she also said that she can take care of herself. You should trust her.”
I push my fingers through my hair. “I should trust her?”
“Yes.”
“That’s great. It’s fantastic. I should trust her.” I nod, all the while wanting to punch something. “She left me. She won’t pick up my calls and I’m talking to fucking strangers to find out where she is. And I should trust her.”