Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 22165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
My dreams last night were nothing but him. I keep waking up, hot and sweaty under my sheets, a desperate longing between my legs. But Charles can’t cure it for me.
Only one thing can. And only Dawson has it.
I’ve been checking my phone obsessively for the last three days. Dawson’s texts are always short, direct, and never overwhelming. But I still feel like I never know what to say back. I take forever to reply, and everything I write feels cringe. Any day now he’s going to give up on me. I just know it.
What will I do then? How long will it take for me to get over him? How long before I can go back to Charles and my routine?
“You’re horny for an actual human,” Reese says, eyeing me over her latte. “This is a historic time.”
She asked me to meet up for a coffee, and I jumped at the opportunity to get out of the house. I need something—anything—to distract me from thinking about Dawson. We met at a different place this time. Just in case he decided to drop by unannounced again.
I cover my face in my arms, wanting to melt into the table and die. “Leave me alone!” I pout. Reese laughs back and pats me on the head like I’m a good dog or something.
“Don’t be embarrassed. This is a good thing. Maybe now you can have an actual boyfriend that isn’t made of plastic!”
“Silicon…” I mutter.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.” I can’t take this any longer. I need Dawson, but I’m still too afraid. Of what? I couldn’t even put it into words. All I know is that I am. All I can hope is that he eventually loses interest.
My phone buzzes, shaking the table. Startled, I reach for it, but Reese grabs it first.
“Gimmie,” I snap. But she stares at the screen and her eyes go wide. “What? What is it?”
“Oh my God, Evie…”
My heart is pounding so fast I move like The Flash, snatching my phone back from her. There’s a text on the screen from Dawson. And when I read it, my entire body freezes.
Dinner with me tonight. Pick you up at seven. If you don’t open the door, I’ll wait outside until you do.
I blink rapidly as my mind basically stops working. I don’t even know what to say, so I quickly text back:
No. I can’t.
“Did you just say no to him?” Reese asks, her voice a mixture of annoyance and amusement. “Dawson is a total hottie, if you haven’t noticed.”
“You think I haven’t noticed!?” My voice explodes from my mouth, causing Reese to jump in her chair. I put a hand to my chest. “Sorry…I’m just…I don’t know what to do—”
Before I can finish, my phone buzzes in my hand. Another text.
I wasn’t asking.
He’s so assertive. So confident. It has my body aching all over. I thought I was desperate when I woke up this morning, but these texts…they’re taking things to a whole new level.
“You’re gonna go is what you’re gonna do,” Reese chimes in, raising an eyebrow. “If you don’t, I will.”
“Shut up.” I frown. “You will not.”
“I will.” She smirks. “I’ll take him dancing, I’ll back my ass up on him and then take him home and—”
“Okay!” I blurt out, grabbing my things as I stand. “I’ll go.”
She laughs. “Damn right you will.”
“Which means I have to get out of here and get ready.” I glance at the time. “He’s gonna be here in three hours. How in the world will I be ready by then!?”
“You’ll be fine,” Reese assures me.
But will I? All I can think about on the drive home is how I’m going to embarrass myself. I have zero experience with guys, and I’m sure Dawson has had gazillions of women. I mean, who would be stupid enough to turn him down?
Aside from me, of course…
I spend the rest of the afternoon in a full anxiety spiral, tearing my closet apart, searching for something acceptable to wear. I need something that makes me look cute but not like I’m trying too hard. Eventually, after showering and blow-drying my hair, I settle on a pair of faded blue jeans and a lime-green halter top.
Doing my makeup is nearly impossible, thanks to how badly my hands are shaking. Maybe I should just call this off. I mean, he can’t force me to go out with him.
I actually take out my phone and type out a text:
I can’t do this.
My thumb hovers over the send button.
But what am I supposed to do if he follows through on his promise to just sit outside my apartment, waiting for me?
No. I set the phone aside. I have to go. I want to. I just don’t know how I’m going to survive.
At precisely seven o’clock, there’s a heavy knock on the door. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, fighting the urge to throw up.