Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 138775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Without hesitation, he reached for my hand. His fingers curled around mine—solid and reassuring. “You don’t have to. Not with me. Not ever.”
I wasn’t entirely sure what he meant, but I liked the comforting way he said it. I squeezed his fingers, lacing mine between his.
“I figure you have to deal with enough crap from Lucas and Kyle,” he went on. His thumb brushed lightly over the back of my hand. “So you don’t need to worry about me feeling jealous or resentful or anything like that. I would never do that, Tori.”
“I know.” My voice was soft, and I gave him a small smile. “That didn’t quite come out right. I’m grateful. I’m glad I can be myself around you.”
“You can.” His gaze didn’t waver. “And I’m not going to be resentful that you’re on a date with one of the others or anything like that. Not unless you, like, kick me in the balls and then head out with one of them.”
I giggled, unable to help it. “You have my permission to be resentful if that happens. But seriously, I appreciate it. I don’t entirely understand what’s going on between all of us, but… I’m glad that I don’t have to worry about you judging me.”
“You definitely don’t.” He gave a half-smile, running his free hand through his damp hair. “I’m not judging Kyle and Lucas, either. Even when they’re both behaving like immature idiots.”
“But yeah, you’re definitely not judging them.” I grinned, tilting my head at him.
“Exactly.”
There was a pause. The rain continued to drum steadily on the roof of the car.
“Do you think maybe sometime you and I could go on a date?” My voice was quieter now.
“I’d love that.” His answer came without hesitation. “Give me some time to think of something good. And we should probably wait until after the apocalypse.”
“Yeah, good call.”
Before either of us could say anything else, my phone buzzed with a notification. I was going to ignore it, but then Jayden’s screen lit up too. We both looked down at the same time.
“A tornado watch,” I said in disbelief, staring at the alert. “It’s September.”
Jayden shook his head, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, that’s not normal.”
This area of Georgia sometimes got tornadoes, sure—but not as much as in other parts of the state. And definitely not this time of year.
“So we better get inside.” He twisted around in his seat, craning his neck to check the back. “I’ve got an umbrella back there, but by the time we get it open, it’ll already be turned inside out, and we’ll be soaked, anyway.” He glanced at me with a wry grin. “Guess we’ll just have to run for it.”
The prospect should’ve been daunting, but somehow, it wasn’t. Not with Jayden. I was just enjoying being with him—even if it did feel like the world was crashing down around us.
“So, does that mean you’re not going to come over here and open my door for me like a gentleman?”
“No,” he replied without missing a beat. “My plan is to run like a coward as fast as I can.”
I laughed. “Good plan.” I grabbed my bag. “On three.”
He counted down, and we both flung open our doors—wind whipping into the car the second we did. The rain hit like a wall. My hair was instantly plastered to my head, and the wind shoved me sideways before I even got to my feet.
I struggled forward, the gusts pushing me back against the hood of the car. My book bag felt heavier by the second, already soaked. I should’ve left it, but it was too late now.
Jayden reached the porch first, keys already in his hand. He got the door unlocked just as I made it up the steps. But when he opened it, the wind caught it hard.
It slammed wide with a violent crack—and crashed into him.
“Jayden!” I cried, just as he stumbled back. His shoes slid on the wet porch, and then he skidded right off the edge into the bushes and mulch below.
I scrambled after him, heart pounding, afraid he’d hit his head.
But he was already sitting up, brushing his hands off and looking dazed. “Get inside,” he told me.
I didn’t move. I offered him my hand, my heart still pounding erratically in my chest.
He took my hand, his grip strong, and used his other hand to push himself up. When he finally stood, he was soaked and covered in mulch, mud, and bits of leaves.
But all that mattered was getting inside.
We made it through the door, shoving it closed behind us with effort. When it finally latched, I leaned back against the wall, trying to catch my breath.
The storm howled outside, muffled now, locked out behind thick walls.
“Are you okay?” I asked, turning toward him.
“Yeah, I think so. So.” He looked down at himself and let out a breath.