Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
The next day, Jackson had convinced me to do a performance with him. We’d only needed to watch a movie and have dry sex. No kissing. No nudity.
Halfway through, I’d started crying on his shoulder. He’d held me and moaned louder to hide any sounds I’d made. He’d held me long after the performance was over, telling me he was sorry. He didn’t even need to ask if it was Callum. He’d rubbed my back and told me it would eventually get better. That he’d known from experience it was possible to survive without the one you truly wanted.
I wanted to believe him, but it felt impossible when I watched Callum in classes.
I’d barely taken any notes the past week in class as I watched him, desperately wanting him to look at me, but terrified of what I’d see in his eyes when he did. In the office, he never asked for my help. He always pawned me off on the lab manager or had Donna send me home early.
I hated it. Hated everything about the whole situation. Hated seeing him look so haggard and know I’d been the cause of it. Hated knowing I’d set him back and that he’d begun losing his control.
Somehow, one night lying in bed, my frustration with my parents grew again. I’d never have had to work at Voyeur if they hadn’t spent my money. Then I wondered if Callum and I would have ever happened. The idea of never having felt Callum’s lips on mine, his body on top of me, inside me. The idea of never having felt his smile and happiness directed at me, felt unimaginable. My love for him felt destined no matter the circumstances. Did that mean my pain was destined too? Were we always meant to fail?
I shook off the memory as I prepared to walk in to the office. With a deep breath, I pushed the door open, forced a weak smile at Donna and slowly approached Callum’s door. I always asked if he needed me even though every day he answered with a no, not even looking up from his papers.
Today when I looked in, I almost threw up the pop I had before arriving.
Shannon had her butt perched on his desk, her back to me as she smiled down at him. What was worse was his smile back at her. Sure, it looked forced, not reaching his eyes, but even a forced smile was out of my reach. His eyes flicked to me standing in the doorway, looking at me for the first time in weeks.
The blue was dull, hollow of any shine that used to be there. Dark circles under his eyes made the darkness seem all the more apparent. For the first time in weeks, even with his lips stretched into a smile, I saw my own pain reflected back at me. Just as quickly, he dismissed me, looking back up at Shannon, and I walked away as fast as I could.
I couldn’t watch. The pain was bad enough without the image of him with another woman.
Trying to erase the picture from my mind, I worked harder, turning each beaker and flask to face perfectly straight. Any excuse to hide in the storage room a little longer.
The door opened behind me and I knew, just fucking knew it was him. Maybe it was the pause of his steps when he noticed me in there. Maybe it was the way my body sensed his and came to life just from his energy being close to mine. I didn’t know, but my muscles jerked when the door clicked shut and we were the only ones in the room.
My chest heaved over my rapid breaths, trying to keep up with my frantic heartbeat. The last time we were alone, we’d shattered, and I still hadn’t recovered yet. My hands trembled from the nervous energy coursing through my limbs, so aware of him standing behind me. Off to my left, a glass slid off a shelf and I imagined his strong hands gripping the equipment and remembering how he’d gripped me.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” His voice was soft, deep, quiet, but it rattled through my body like a scream. “To watch someone that means so much to you be with someone else.”
I whipped around so fast, the end of my ponytail flicked my face. Angry heat flooded my face and a fire that he would hurt me so intentionally burned me from the inside out. “You did it on purpose? To teach me a lesson? Like I don’t know?”
“God no. No, Oaklyn.” He looked me over, alarm contorting his face into a frown. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, stepping closer to me.
His soft confession hit me in my chest. I knew he didn’t want to hurt me. That was how we got there in the first place. I closed my eyes, unable to stare at his beauty without remembering all the reasons I loved him.