Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
I wouldn’t know. I’m far from it. More than that, I have zero inclination to pretend I am.
“Damn right, he’s not,” she agrees.
I glance up at the sun as it shines brightly. There’s not a cloud in sight. Even through my sunglasses, the harsh illumination hurts my eyes. Normally, a day like this would make me want to tip my face to the cerulean-colored sky and soak up all the glorious rays.
That’s not the case today.
If I didn’t have dance class, I would be buried beneath a mountain of blankets in my bed. It’s been more than a week since Colton blew my world to smithereens. And here I am, continuing to pick out the jagged pieces of shrapnel embedded in my skin. I’m still blown away that he had the audacity to break up with me.
Through text message.
Text!
The lousy bastard.
Who the hell does that?
Colton Montgomery, that’s who.
I give my head a shake, needing to banish him from my brain. Dwelling on the situation won’t do me any good. And it won’t make the pain magically disappear. Although, it would be kind of nice if it did. I’m tired of thinking about it. Tired of being depressed and pissed off.
Mia squeezes my arm, and I realize that I’ve once again become ensnared in my own thoughts. “Sorry,” I mutter, embarrassed by my inability to pull myself out of this misery, “what did you say?”
“I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner tonight. Maybe pizza?” Her voice escalates with growing excitement. “Oh! There’s a new Thai restaurant downtown that just opened. I’ve been dying to try it.”
I grimace at the idea of eating either of those options. It’s enough to make my belly revolt.
“No.” Instead of admitting that I don’t have much of an appetite, I say, “I’ll probably hang out at the studio for a while and work on choreography. The showcase will be here before you know it, and I need all the extra rehearsals I can squeeze in.”
It doesn’t escape me that without dance, there wouldn’t be a reason to drag my ass out of bed in the morning.
Or ever.
“Listen,” Mia’s voice turns hesitant, “I know you said you didn’t want to talk about—”
“Good,” I cut in promptly before she can meander too far down this pain-ridden road, “then we understand each other perfectly.”
Her face falls, and her shoulders wilt. A heavy silence descends as we continue along the cement path that winds through campus.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize when she murmurs, “It might help you get over the breakup if you talk about it.”
Absolutely not. Revealing just how much Colton hurt me won’t help matters. It’ll only make me look like an idiot for believing he was anything other than a player. Mia is my closest friend, and usually, I tell her everything, but I couldn’t bring myself to share his parting words with her. It was way too humiliating.
Fuck him and his unicorn pussy comment.
Even the memory is enough to bring a hot sting of embarrassment to my cheeks.
Relief floods through me as the fine arts building comes into view. I appreciate Mia trying to be supportive, but the best thing I can do is put this whole ugly mess behind me. I want to forget we were ever together or that I gave him the time of day. The only way that will happen is to stop talking about him. And thinking about him. I want to focus all of my energies on things that matter. Like dance. Even the thought of losing myself in the choreography is enough to loosen the constriction gripping my chest, making it easier to breathe.
I keep my attention locked on the brick building in the distance. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m good.”
“Okay,” she mutters, not sounding the least bit convinced. “If you’re sure.”
“I am.” Somehow, I manage to hoist my lips into a thin semblance of a smile. It’s not one that stretches across my face, but still, I deserve credit for the effort.
A sigh escapes from Mia before she shrugs, hopefully giving up the crusade she’s so intent on. “If you change your mind, I’ll be here to listen.” Just when I think that we’ve put the whole ugly matter behind us, she adds, “Bottling all that emotion up inside isn’t healthy.”
“Maybe not, but it’s a hell of a lot better than sitting around and crying over a guy who isn’t worth one damn tear.”
I wouldn’t mind keeping you in my back pocket and having a taste of it every once in a while. No strings attached, of course.
“That’s not what I learned from Dr. Haskel.”
Those quietly spoken words have everything inside me softening. Mia attended therapy with her parents after Brianna’s death. Even though I would never ask, I can’t help but wonder what good it did. It sure as hell didn’t bring her sister back. And her family, for all their plastic smiles and pretending, are still fractured at the core. Her dad works a gazillion hours a week and is barely around. Julia, her mother, drowns herself in alcohol, anti-depressants, and shops like there’s no tomorrow. Maybe she secretly wishes there wouldn’t be. I can’t necessarily blame her for that. What could be worse than losing a child?