Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
All I know is I need a quiet place to think, and a plan to get as far from fucking Lindell University and Landon as possible.
My dad is going to be pissed. He has worked so hard for me to attend this college.
Chapter 31
Landon
I hate the fucking world.
I hate Rick.
I hate Rex.
I hate myself.
I hate the thoughts in my head.
I hate that I’m so angry.
I hate that I’m heartbroken.
I hate that I let him get to me.
I hate that I closed my eyes last night and let myself pretend that Mazie was someone else.
I focus on the anger. I can use it.
My headache only gets worse when I leave the dorm room. The nap I managed to get at Jason’s didn’t help, but then again, I never really thought it would. I was simply putting off the inevitable, but Rick somehow managed to turn my own fear and anger at his possibly hooking up with someone else last night back on me.
I know how it looked. I didn’t deny it because I was afraid of repercussions. Nothing happened with Mazie. I’ve recalled enough of my actions last night to know I didn’t.
Who the fuck does Rick think he is, calling things off?
The egotistical fuck actually thinks he has a choice?
I’m the one with boundaries.
I’m the one that’s testing all this new shit to see if it fits in my life, if it’s something I truly want.
I grow angrier, knowing the thoughts racing through my head are a clear indication that I’m the narcissistic asshole, not him.
Of course he can choose, but the man has been in love with me since his balls dropped.
How in the world can seeing me dance with a girl make all that stop?
The short answer… it can’t.
My feet are heavy as I walk around campus, searching for him, praying he isn’t going to do something stupid before I can apologize. He has every right. He’s free to do what he pleases, but I don’t know if I could ever live with myself if the dickhead did something he normally wouldn’t do because he was angry at me, because I’ve been a coward and could never build up enough courage to give him access to my thoughts.
He doesn’t know how I feel because I never told him, hoping each time we touched over the last several weeks that he could feel those emotions on the tips of my fingers, in the brush of my tongue, in the way we hold each other at night even though it’s ridiculously uncomfortable in our small bed.
The fantasy of the two of us is over. I’m over being your secret. I’m no longer your fuck toy to experiment with.
The words play over and over in my head as my eyes dart around, trying to find him.
I hate everyone I see, each of them being a potential issue, someone having an unsolicited opinion about what Rick and I share.
And that’s shitty too, because I’m standing here judging them without knowing them, the very same way I’m scared of how they’ll treat me if they got wind of what has happened between Rick and me.
I try to mentally take a step back, to see the world in a different light, but my own bubbling emotions don’t allow for it right now. My only concern is finding Rick and trying to convince him to come back to the room so we can work through all this shit.
I just can’t accept that we’re over.
“You look murderous.”
I keep scanning the people milling about campus instead of looking over at Silas.
“I feel it,” I mutter, squinting when I think I see Rick, but it’s just some other guy wearing a red t-shirt similar to what Rick left the room in.
“So,” he says, and I know he’s going to mention something about Rick.
I can just feel it in my bones. Is this it? Is this when everything is exposed, when my teammate and closest friend calls me out? Will I have the courage to confide in him? The tremble in my hands makes me lean toward no, but lying won’t make things better either.
“I think my brain fritzed last night. I thought I saw you dancing with Matthews, but then I blinked, and you were dancing with Mazie.”
I don’t say anything because he didn’t ask me a question.
“Did you score last night?”
I finally look over at my friend, the smile on his face a clear indication that he’s not really wanting to know about my night but is asking so he can tell me about his.
“No. You?”
“That girl I was chasing after wasn’t interested, but her friend…” His smile grows wider. “That woman was a beast in bed. Well, in my car. She couldn’t wait for the bed. Had a mouth on her like a shop vac.”
He punctuates his words with a loud sucking noise.