Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 103170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
"Right. You made your choices. But I made mine too, and I knew this would be… complicated."
He nods.
"It's more logical to end it there. To say goodbye and avoid you for the next week and then over the holidays. And every time I see you for a while. That makes sense."
"It does."
"And I'll honor that, if it's what you want. But it's not what I want anymore. I don't know how it will work. I don't know how to make it not fucked up, but I… I want to be with you. All the way."
"You live in New York."
"And you live in London. And that's another way it's complicated. I'll miss you all the time and I'll have jet lag when I fly to London and back in a weekend and it will be hard but I… I'm going to miss you either way."
"Sienna…"
No, no, no. That's the Sienna, we can't tone.
"I care about you."
"But—"
"I do. I care deeply. Maybe it's more. I don't know either. I haven't loved anyone in fifteen years."
Since he was fourteen? That's awfully young to fall in love, but, stranger, it's awfully young for a first love to fuck with his head that much.
But then his first experience with sex was fucked up.
And he has all these limits.
And he needs me to be careful with him.
"You've fucked with my head, Sienna. And it's a good thing for me, but it's confusing, and it's going to be confusing for a long time. Even if everything was different, if you weren't eighteen—"
"Ian is sixteen years older than Eve."
"Even if your sister wasn't marrying Ty and we didn't live thousands of miles apart… I'm not ready." His eyes meet mine. "I'm not ready to be with someone. Not the way you deserve."
"But—"
"I'm sorry, Sienna. I wish I had another answer for you. I wish things were different, but they're not."
"But why?"
His eyes stay fixed on mine.
"Why aren't you ready? Why can't you be with someone? Why can't we figure it out together?"
"I have to do it alone."
"Are you sure?"
"No." He takes a deep breath. Lets out a slow exhale. "I've wanted to tell you this. For selfish reasons. Because I wanted to tell someone. I wanted you to know and look at me the same way. I wanted to have all your understanding."
"I want that too."
"I've never told anyone else. Not like this. And I… I'll tell you if you're ready to hear it."
"I don't understand."
"This is a big secret, the kind that sometimes feels like a burden, and I don't want to put that on you if you can't take it."
"I can."
"You can't tell anyone. Not your sister or—"
"Ty?"
"Ty knows. Not because I told him, but… it has to be between us."
I nod.
"And it won't change my answer. I'm still saying no."
"You're scared?"
"Terrified."
"I… I do promise, to keep it ours, but if you don't want to tell me—"
"I do. Just give me a minute."
I nod okay.
He refills both our glasses, but he doesn't drink his. "I was like you growing up. A football player. A good one. Always best in my year."
Okay.
"Coaches took an interest in me. I didn't think anything of it when my high school coach did the same."
I press my palms into the bench. I need to listen to him. To let him talk and not jump to ugly conclusions. And not put him in a position where he's apologizing for making me feel bad, apologizing for his pain.
I hated when my parents died and people looked at me like please, tell me what to say expecting me to apologize for making them feel awkward.
"She was a new teacher. Twenty-four, blonde, gorgeous. All the boys on the team talked about how much they wanted her. Or the things they would do to her if she gave them a chance," he says. "It was bullocks. They didn't have a clue. I didn't have a clue, but I played along anyway. Bragged about moves I'd seen in porn and how I knew exactly how to make a woman come."
"And she took an interest?"
He nods. "At first, it was normal. Extra training or talking plays after practice. Then, it was more, but still what I expected from a teacher. Help with homework, advice on family or university. Then I told her about a girl who liked me, and she asked if I knew how to kiss."
Oh no.
"I'd kissed a few girls, but I didn't know, not really. So she offered to show me."
I bite my tongue.
"That was it for a few weeks. Practice kissing. And then my coach, Winter, asked if I knew what happened after kissing. I knew it wasn't usual for her to show me. I knew she was crossing some line. But she was beautiful and experienced, and what kind of man would I be to turn that down? I should trust someone older and wiser, someone tasked with building my talent."