Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
"I am." I take a final drink before setting the bottle aside. One is the limit tonight. "My pops thought it was hilarious when he found out what I did. He laughed his ass off. But Mom did not share his amusement. I couldn't sit down for a week after she got through with me." I chuckle again. "Pops spent just as long sleeping on the couch."
Another peal of laughter erupts from Elsie's side of the table. Heads turn in our direction as she holds up a hand, pleading with me through tears and laughter to stop so she can breathe. It's hard to miss the smiles and admiring gazes directed her way. It doesn't matter how hard or how often they look, though. She's mine.
"Christ, you're beautiful, baby." I lean forward, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.
Her laughter dies in her throat as she goes still. For a moment, she just stares at me, her eyes wide and her mouth open in a little "O" of surprise. The pulse in her throat flutters like a hummingbird's wings. Her breath fans across my face.
"That dress of yours is making me so hard I can't think straight," I murmur. "I can't wait to see it on your living room floor, Dimples. I've been thinking about you naked for weeks now, you know that? I stand at my window, just fucking watching you because I can't look away."
"I…" She swallows, clearly at a loss for what to say. Her gaze drifts from mine, almost like she's anxious again.
Fuck.
I lean back in my seat. Clear my throat. There are nine thousand things I want to say, but I don't think this is the place to say them, not with a restaurant full of people watching.
"You ready to go?" I ask instead.
Elsie nods, but the motion is jerky and uncertain.
Shit. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned that I watch her through the windows.
Did I just fuck this up?
Chapter Eleven
Elsie
The ride home is silent.
Noah looks over at me a few times like he wants to say something as he escorts me to my door, but he stops himself at the last minute every time.
I'm not sure what to say.
I'm not even sure why I froze in the restaurant. I think, maybe, it's because no one has ever said anything like that to me before, at least, not how he did. He said I was beautiful like he meant it, like it was killing him not to admit just how wild he is for me.
Part of me wanted to climb over the table into his lap right then and there. Part of me panicked a little, too. It's probably ridiculous, but there was something in the way he was looking at me that I've never seen before. I want him to keep looking at me like that forever.
But I'm a little terrified that we'll move too fast and screw it all up.
I push the key into the lock and turn it when we reach my porch.
And then I spin around to face him.
"Did you mean it?" I ask, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip.
"What?" he blinks at me, caught off guard by the question.
"Did you…never mind," I sigh, turning back to the front door.
"Yeah," he finally whispers, "I meant it, Dimples. You're fucking gorgeous." He blows out a breath. "You completely captivate me. You have since the moment we met. I should have told you weeks ago."
"A-And the rest of it?"
"Yeah, I meant that too." He pauses for a moment. "Maybe that makes me an asshole, but it's the truth. I can't fucking stop watching you. If you're home, it's like I have to see you. I have to look at you, just to remind myself that you're real. I want you every goddamn minute of the day."
My heart pounds like a drum, beating wildly against my ribcage. I want to tell him that I watch him too, that I feel the same way, but the words won't form. They're stuck in my throat, choking me.
Why can't I talk? Why can't I tell him that I'm in love with him? That I watch him the same damn way he watches me? That stalking him through the window has become my favorite hobby?
Because no words have ever mattered more, that's why.
"Goodnight, Dimples," he sighs behind me.
What?
He's leaving?
I turn to look at him, but he's already jogging down the steps, his head lowered.
"Goodnight, Noah." My voice cracks as I slip through the front door, confused and disappointed, my heart aching in ways that don't even make sense to me.
I wanted him to stay.
I wanted my dress on the floor and his hands on my body.
Why didn't I open my mouth and tell him that?
God, I'm such an idiot.
"What am I doing?" I groan as the door closes with a quiet click behind me. I squeeze my eyes closed, hoping utter darkness will bring a moment of clarity or sanity, but it doesn't.