Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“I-I’ve never been to Nobu Malibu…p-probably never will again. It was really nice of you t-to do that…you d-didn’t have to.”
And uncomfortable feeling churns in my gut. I’ve taken plenty of girls there. Girls whose names I couldn’t remember by the time we walked out. None of them thanked me once. I almost forgot what it’s like to go out with someone whose company I actually enjoy. Someone whose name I’ll never forget. Someone I care about.
She looks off blindly, lost in thought, and I can’t stop watching her. Most people I know can’t stand not being the center of attention. They seek the spotlight every chance they get. Me included. But not this girl. Which make me want to stare even more.
“You haven’t said anything about how nice I look––not a single word. Jesus Christ, I mean, I made the effort, Dora. Put on real clothes for you. I even combed my hair and you didn’t even notice.”
A huge grin breaks across her face, her eyes glinting with amusement. I have on a white dress shirt and a pair of jeans. I’ve never been a clothes guy. Dora on the other hand looks beautiful in a denim-colored summer dress that makes her hair look redder than usual.
It’s down and sexy, but it’s nothing compared to her lips. Glossy and full. I’ve been picturing eating that gloss off her lips since she picked me up. For a dude of my vast experience, it’s embarrassing how excited I was to go out with her tonight, and I’m not even making excuses. It has nothing to do with the very real fact that I haven’t hooked up in months because I’m not even remotely interested. And not for lack of opportunity. I mean, let’s face it, I’m still me. Karen showed up at the house two nights ago uninvited. I told Brock to send her home.
“You look b-beautiful,” she says making a big deal of checking me out.
“Took you long enough.” She giggles, the crowd parts, and the Ferris wheel comes into view. “C’mon. Let’s get on.” Glancing up with a pained expression, she shakes her head. “Why not?”
Another face. “I’m s-scared of heights.”
I’m pretty sure I saw Ferris wheel on her list. Probably not a good idea to remind her that I snooped on her phone, but we’ve already established I’m full of bad ideas.
Pointing to the spinning wheel. “Isn’t this on your list?” The blush is instant. “Time to knock one off.” I take her hand and she lets me lead her to the end of the line. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I-I am really scared of heights and I mean really.”
“Do you trust me?”
Honey-brown eyes search my face, open with her feelings but closed with her thoughts.
“Yeah…I do.”
A satisfied grin stretches across my face.
Dora
I. Am. Dead.
Can you die of fright? Because I’m pretty sure I’m almost there.
“Keep the bar down. Keep your hands inside the gondola. Don’t do anything to intentionally cause the gondola to swing more,” the tobacco chewing operator drones on.
The only reason I’m even considering getting on this steel wheel of death is because Mika and Vi would never hire anyone that hasn’t passed inspection.
Standing next to me, Dallas is all glowing smiles as he hands the operator our tickets. He actually tried to tame his hair tonight. He wasn’t kidding. When I saw him walk out of the house dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans, his hair pushed behind his ear, my heart nearly stopped. Then he made me drive us to that amazing restaurant. He opened all the doors and pulled out my chair. If it was anybody else, I would’ve considered it a date.
In the open gondola, he sits so close he’s practically in my lap, his denim-covered thigh glued to mine. My teeth close to chattering, I scoot even closer. The operator lowers the safety bar with a loud bang that jolt me out of my skin.
“Chill, Kitten. I’ve got you.”
A heavy arm drapes around my shoulders. I’m wrapped in heat, in the solid comforting weight of him. He’s better than a security blanket. He’s better than everything.
“Ready?”
“No.”
I’m shaking, honest-to-goodness shaking. Sensing it, his arm tightens. The Ferris wheel lurches forward for the next group to get on and I yelp. He laughs as I huddle closer to him, my hands grabbing fists-full of his shirt. Hope it’s not expensive because I am not letting go.
“You break it you buy it,” the obnoxious jerk chuckles near my ear as I hang on to him for dear life and slam my eyes shut.
“I-I-I told you this was going to be bad.”
“Open your eyes.”
“No, I’m t-too scared.”
Flying blind is the only thing keeping me sane right now. That and his warmth, his weight, his scent. A mix of fabric detergent and expensive soap––the kind you buy at a department store. He smells so good it’s driving me crazy. I’ve never done drugs but I’m mostly certain that they feel like Dallas smells. If I could do lines of him, I would.