Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 129110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Fate. Kismet. Luck.
The self-conscious person in me still can’t help but harp on if I’m someone he’s genuinely interested in or if he’s using me to occupy time. Regardless, I don't think I'm the sideshow I thought I was earlier. I do feel something real, but I'm not positive what, or if it's just my imagination. I suppose it doesn't really matter. Even if he's feeding me bullshit I’m still having fun.
Suddenly an alarm sounds on his phone and he pauses the game. I look over as he places the controller down with a smile. “Ah! My auction is about to end!”
After he explains what the hell he's talking about I’m shocked he doesn’t simply make a call for the Doctor Who memorabilia he’s after. Instead he's on eBay like the rest of us. This day just gets more odd by the moment. “Have you seen it?” his eyes widen as he glances up from his phone. “The show?”
“No,” I shake my head. I know he’s a massive fan, and the appalled look he gives makes me wonder if he's about to tell me to forget the past couple of hours, wave me off with the flick of his wrist because I'm no longer good enough, but then with a slight gleam he nods instead. I sit up a little straighter, surprised.
“My boxed collection is at home, but I’ll let you borrow it the next time I see you.”
Next time.
My heart skips a beat - two simple words that leave me far more ecstatic and hopeful than I care to admit.
Really, what am I getting myself into?
I sit back and think about that as he continues to fumble with his phone, but I can't concentrate. Not as he looks up and catches me eying his guitar. The weird expression that crosses his face further throws me off, and I have to physically bite my tongue to keep from bringing up the taboo subject. It's weird how he was so open before - I feel like I got to know him, and now he's holding back. Does he not trust me? Is it too big a secret?
When I'm caught staring for a third time I clear my throat. I should say something. “So you like acting?” I make a face, and judging by his expression I’m pretty sure he knows that’s not what I really wanted to ask.
He lets out a low chuckle, making my heart do that flipping thing.
“I like acting,” he repeats, following my gaze to his guitar. “It’s fun.” He pauses, and for a second I think he’s going to elaborate, but he returns to his phone.
“30 seconds left!” he cheers. “Mona!”
Ugh, not her again.
The tight-haired lady enters so fast that she had to have been lurking by the door. She shoots me a glare as she approaches, assessing the situation, and it's no secret she doesn't like me. Then she focuses on Asher and I let out the breath I was holding.
Turns out he doesn’t know how to make a payment for the auction he just won. She takes the phone and does it for him. It’s obvious she takes care of every little thing.
"Do you usually not pay for things yourself?"
"What?" he looks up, and so does she, her stare narrowing.
"You just, uh, seem clueless."
"He doesn't need to know about these things," she snaps. "That's what he has people for. He's Asher Montgomery."
"I know who he is," I mumble, and when I look back over at Asher he's smiling.
"Here, you finish," he gives Mona the phone and waits for her to go, but there's something about her blatant disregard as she leaves that has me feeling uneasy.
"Does it bother you that I don't know how to do simple things?"
"Learning how to manage your own money isn't a simple thing. It's a common thing, and everyone should know how to do it."
He slowly nods.
"I'm sorry, I-"
"No, you're absolutely right."
"I am?"
"I guess that's why I like you. You're... direct."
"Most people hate that about me."
"I for one hope you never change."
I clear my throat, recalling the many times its gotten me into trouble.
You don't know how to talk to people. Travis yells, often rolling his eyes.
“I don’t know if I’m actually good at it or if people are just blowing smoke up my arse," Asher hesitates, and I lick my lips, wondering how typical this is - how many girls he's invited to his hotel room in the past, and how many times he's played the vulnerable card with them before, like maybe this is all an act.
And I'm pissed.
Only I'm angry at Travis for making me think every guy out there has some sort of ulterior motive, because Asher doesn't really seem like that, but now his womanizing rumors are front and center again, and I'm torn and confused. The thing is he's not trying to get into my pants. We're talking, not flirting. Our banter is comfortable, with zero undertone, which then begs the question, what's wrong with me? Why doesn't he want to get into my pants? He's laughing at my jokes, finding me interesting, so what the hell?