Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 14818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 74(@200wpm)___ 59(@250wpm)___ 49(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 74(@200wpm)___ 59(@250wpm)___ 49(@300wpm)
Mika also listened to me rant about random stuff, like the lady who cut in front of me at the grocery store, the suit-wearing asshole who spilled coffee on my shoes and didn’t apologize, or one of the big-time clients who liked sending emails in the middle of the night.
With Mika around, I totally forgot I was new in town. I adjusted so quickly and so easily. And I repaid him by hurting him.
Oh, God. What have I done?
5
MIKA
Max is moving out in two days. We haven’t talked in three.
The fact that I haven’t touched her is driving me crazy. I’m not sure if it’s a good or bad thing, but without the sexual film glazing over my eyes, I’ve come to the conclusion that Max is the one for me. No one else.
Even if she won’t let me fuck her ever again, I still need her in my life. Need her like the oxygen I breathe. Being in the same space as her, with thin walls separating us, but unable to touch her is torture. I often find myself on the verge of knocking down her door and begging … for what, I have no idea.
She doesn’t want me the same way I want her. Maybe it was just sex for her, but damn, I was beginning to think of our future together.
And that rips me apart more than anything.
But no matter how much I yearn for her, I will respect her wishes. If she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me, then I understand. That doesn’t mean I don’t walk around feeling like my spine is in a vise. That also doesn’t mean I won’t try and scare any guy who even tries to spare her a second of attention.
Anyone who wants to get to her has to get through me, and I’ll make sure no one gets through me. Tough luck, assholes.
The low hum of music surrounds us, and all around me, I hear clinking glasses, conversations, and laughter. I’m still wearing my scrub suit, not wanting to go home and change.
My friends are getting increasingly louder the more drinks arrive at our table. I’ve only had one beer, and I’m still nursing it after an hour. It already tastes funky to me.
I really am not in the mood to go out, drink, or pretty much do anything else, but I’m also tired of sulking, especially when I know the room next door will be empty within the week.
What Max doesn’t know is that I’ve reached a new low. I’ve reduced myself to a stalker—waiting for her to finish work, following her from the office to our apartment. I try to tell myself I just want to make sure she gets home safe, but it’s a lie … kind of. I also want to see if she’s already seeing someone else.
The two concert tickets burn a hole in my pocket, a heavy reminder of the moment things changed between us. I slid it under her door the other night, so she could watch even if it wasn’t with me. But I woke up to find them under my bedroom door.
The concert’s supposed to be tonight.
“Oh shit, it’s Max,” Kevin says.
That makes my head snap up, sure that my obsession with her has me hearing things.
“Who?” Brandon asks.
“Max. The new girl on the third floor. She’s with the visual arts team.”
“Is she hot?”
“You bet.”
My hand tightens on the bottle, my blood freezing solid. There’s throbbing in the center of my chest, jealousy coiling in my lungs, making it harder to breathe.
It’s Max alright. Max in her silk flowy dress and heels. She shouldn’t look as delectable as she does right now. In seconds, the promise I made to myself—to keep my distance and let her be—begins to fray, thread by fucking thread.
“Fuck, you’re right. Introduce me.” Brandon elbows Kevin, who just chuckles.
“Nah, man. She already blew off half the straight male population at work and even the females trying to hit on her.”
“She hasn’t met me yet.”
Brandon is a good guy and a reliable co-worker. We make a good team at the hospital, but right now, I want to knock off his teeth and make him swallow them one by one.
I exhale forcefully through my nose when he takes a long swallow from his bottle and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He stands to his full height, winks at us over his shoulder, and strides to Max’s table. She’s with two other women, and they’re chatting animatedly.
Anyone with two eyes and a brain can tell they’re here to have a girls’ night and not to look for hookups. But Brandon’s brain must’ve turned to mush from the alcohol.
Max doesn’t even spare him a glance as he stands like an idiot beside her.
“Hi. I’m Brandon,” he drawls.