Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
I can be normal.
Tori: That sounds perfect, but don’t expect any rumpy bumpy.
Alex: You made fun of me for typing ‘laugh out loud’… I think you’ve got me beat with ‘rumpy bumpy,’ Tori.
I smile.
Tori: Maybe I’m just an old soul.
South Beach is still busy with people spilling out of the bars. A few joggers pass me by as I wait anxiously. My arms are wrapped across my middle, but not because of the weather. It’s a relatively warm night, plus I’ve got this bubbling excitement-nerve hybrid to heat me up.
I keep thinking about backing out. Lily’s at home with her man. Cleo is somewhere with her new man… at least for the night.
I could leave, walk to one of the bars, wait inside, and call a taxi. Two lovers walk by, arms wrapped around each other, so close it’s like they want to sink into each other.
That’s not what I want. I also don’t want to be the man and woman on the beach towel, kissing loudly, their noises audible even over the lapping waves and music from the bars.
Alex: I shouldn’t be more than five more minutes, Tori. I’m sorry for keeping you waiting.
Tori: It’s fine. I like being near the sea. It’s peaceful. How did the surgery go?
Alex: I offered my notes. Now it’s up to my team. I’m confident they’ll do a stellar job.
Tori: It must be difficult having all that responsibility. I don’t send the message, instead taking a moment to study it.
What happened to keeping it casual? We should be joking about something lighthearted and breezy, like Valentine's Day's weather, music, or silliness.
Tori: You’re doing a pretty great job at keeping me waiting. I send that instead, but then wonder if it comes across as bitchy. Perhaps the best thing would be to stop overthinking everything.
That’s the kind of pretentious statement my poet's mind could never make out loud, but it’s the truth. I enjoy looking deeply into things and feel a strange responsibility to try to find an emotional angle. More often than not, the emotion is anger, sadness, or resentment.
Alex: Patience, beautiful.
More tingles simmer over my skin. The night suddenly feels as if it could get very special very fast.
CHAPTER 8
ALEX
Iknow it’s her by her silhouette.
I’m not usually the kind of guy who stops to drink in a moment. I function like a machine always set to go. It’s easier that way. I work, spend some time with Elliot if I have the time – which probably isn’t as often as it should be – hit the gym, sleep, repeat. That’s how I’ve kept sane since the crash.
But now, I stop, staring at the shape of her outlined with the sea and the night sky in the background. Her hips stir the animal in me. I want to sink my hands into her, feel how full she is, pull the sweet round globes of her ass against me, and grind against her so she can understand just how savage she’s turning me.
I breathe slowly, trying to calm myself down.
The surgery I was consulting on had life-and-death consequences. It’s another reminder that life is short.
Julian was right. I’ve been looking for love while pretending that I’m not.
When I see her, a voice roars in my head: No more pretending.
Alex: Turn around.
She takes out her phone, turns, and laughs quietly. Her eyes light up as she approaches. “Just to warn you,” she says, “I’ve only had one drink, so if you were thinking of taking advantage…”
“I’d never take advantage of you,” I tell her, my tone firm. Yes, she makes my blood burn, but I would never do anything she didn’t want.
She laughs again, a captivating sound.
“What’s so funny?”
“You – you’re so serious. I was only kidding.”
“Maybe I need you to make me less serious,” I say, giving her a slight grin.
For a moment, her eyes get this almost tragic look. I’ve never looked as closely at anyone as I’m looking at her, studying every detail as if there’s a scalpel in my perception, and I’m dissecting her every tic.
She looks like what she called herself earlier—an old soul inside a perfect young woman’s body.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
“What? No.” She laughs, but it sounds forced. “I’m up to the challenge. I can be unserious. Blah. See?” She makes a face. “Blah, blurgh.” She prods me in the arm. “Whoa, are you carved out of rock or something?”
I chuckle. Her touch burns hotly through my clothes, making the skin below tingle. “Working out is one of the only ways I can forget the hospital sometimes. Shall we walk?”
I take off my jacket.
“You don’t have to…” she begins as I drape it over her shoulders. “Do that.”
“Too late,” I say, then smirk and flex my arm. “Anyway, I only did it because you seem obsessed with my muscles.”