Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I nod to no one in particular and fade into the depths of my mind.
Nox stands suddenly, “Damn. I forgot.” Then he walks over to his pile of dirty clothes and searches his cargo pants’ pockets. Pulling something small out, he walks over to me, flops back onto the bed and hands me the small silver device.
When I take a closer look, I gasp, “No way! You had this the whole time?”
Placing his hands back behind his head, he sighs, “Forgot. It’s Boo’s. Left it in my office.”
Switching on the MP3 player, I place both of the earphones in and search the playlists that Boo has. It’s a great selection. Old music, new music, punk, rock n roll, pop, dance, metal, RnB. I reach a particular song and burst into laughter. Nox turns his head and narrows his eyes at me.
Taking out an earphone, I shove it in his ear. “I think I found the song for you.”
Pressing play, Highway to Hell by AC/DC plays and he smirks, nodding along to the beat of the song. When it ends, I select the random option and Clocks by Coldplay comes on.
Nox grunts, “Change it.”
I frown. “I like this song. It’s a nice song.”
He scoffs, “Uh, yeah. No. Are you listening to the same song I am? Light going out, not being able to be saved, cursing missed opportunities?”
Hmmm. I guess I never listened closely to the lyrics before. It is kinda depressing.
Looking over at my crestfallen expression, he says, “See, I made my point. I’d rather attempt to slit my throat with a rusty spoon than listen to this. Change it.”
So I do. The next song that comes on is Royals by Lorde. And I really like this song. Nox doesn’t say a thing, but I see his foot tapping along so I guess he likes it, too. But the subject of the song makes me uncomfortable. Turning the sound down to a dim whisper, I speak up to the ceiling. “We weren’t always rich, you know?”
Nox turns to his side, supporting his head on his hand, acknowledging me and giving me permission to continue.
I don’t dare look at him but continue my story. “We were just like everyone else. Things were different back then. Dad wasn’t so- so- obnoxiously overprotective. I had friends and I had a life. Then dad started working harder and bringing in more money, flipping companies like they were used cars he was selling. Then one day-” I snap my fingers. “It all changed. We bought that ugly monstrosity we call a home. Security was upped and Dad stopped letting me hang out with my friends. They got sick of asking me to parties ‘cause they knew the answer would be no. So they let me go. And I don’t blame ‘em. It’s hard dealing with my dad sometimes.”
Nox makes a small noise. A grunt. Turning to him, I see his brows furrowed, lips pursed. He doesn’t look happy. Suddenly feeling the need to defend my father, I quickly add, “I mean it wasn’t all bad. Just lonely sometimes. So I fell into books. And I love reading. For a few hours, I can escape this world and fall into character. It’s a beautiful thing. I just don’t get what happened, is all.”
Nox’s sudden intake of breath makes me focus on his face, which is suddenly poker-faced. I blink a moment before I gasp and whisper, “You know something.”
He replies a little too firmly, “Lily, I know a lot of things.”
He forgot to add ‘doesn’t mean I’m gonna tell you shit’ but it was implied.
The song flips over to Massive Attack’s Teardrop and we both listen in quiet while watching each other. My eyes watch his face intently, his search mine softly. My eyes beg, ‘please, tell me something’. His argue, ‘you’re not ready.’
Picking invisible lint off the bed covers, I plead softly but urgently, “I’m ready. Tell me. Please, Nox.”
Shaking his head softly, he says, “Won’t see anything the same. Won’t see me the same. Just got your trust. Don’t need to go losin’ it now.” There’s that southern twang again.
Lying to myself, I rush out, “It won’t change a thing. I trust you, Nox. I swear.”
Scoffing, he asks, “What does ‘I swear’ mean to me? Nothin’.”
“My word is my bond. If I swear to you, I’ll do what I can to keep my promise. I know it doesn’t mean shit to you, but in my family, it means something.” Desperate for answers, I reach over, take his hand and link our fingers. “Please, Nox. You’re the only one who can help me. My dad will never tell me.”
Nox squeezes my hand but his face remains void. Such a tough nut to crack.
Anger surges through me. “I’m almost twenty-three, Nox. I’m not a fucking child! Give me back my life! I deserve that much, don’t you think?”