Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Oh, yes…and I was sure they had a lot to say about me sneaking pinky snogs with Eli, who’d later been seen flirting with my terrible, horrible roommate.
Ugh. This was what I got for trying to change the status quo.
I stayed as far from Gus as possible for the rest of the evening. If he was outside, I went inside to whisper-chat with Jackson and watch strangers contort themselves into pretzels in the living area or morph into human statues in the family room. And because I was a glutton for punishment, I couldn’t help noticing Eli hovering in Gus’s orbit like a gnat.
Okay, maybe I was overreacting. Eli had sought me out for one more pinky moment before he left. I wasn’t sure what that meant. Probably nothing, ’cause that was the last I saw of him.
I was counting on Gus to disappear early. With any luck, Kelsi might entice him to leave with her. The night was young and according to Celine, there was a must-see band playing at The Tavern tonight. Everyone was going.
“Leave the tidying for later,” Celine had cajoled. “Come with us. This was fun and everyone loved it, but let’s go have another kind of fun now.”
“You go. I’ll join you later.”
She gave me a stern once-over, made another plea for my immediate riveting company, but finally gave up and told me to change and text her when I was on my way.
Not happening.
All I wanted was for everyone to go home so I could sulk in peace and quiet. I had big plans for a Sex and the City marathon on my laptop under oodles of covers in a completely empty house with me, myself, and—
“I checked outside for trash, but there wasn’t any. And I moved the sofa and the coffee table back, so everything is where it’s supposed to be,” Gus reported. “Let me do the dishes. You can chill.”
I did a double take.
Oh, God. He felt sorry for me. Just what I needed.
“No, thanks. I’ve got this. My party, my mess.” I grabbed a dish towel and headed for the sink.
“Dude. I’m helping.” Gus shrugged, his beefy shoulders straining the seams of his T-shirt with the effort.
He wasn’t built for small gestures. Everything about Gus Langley was loud and larger than life, and frankly, it was exactly the opposite of what I wanted.
“No, th—”
“Yes,” he countered, snagging the dish towel from my hands.
I snatched it back. “Why?”
“You’ve done it for me.”
True, but…
“No, I mean…why to all of it? Why are you here? Why are you being nice? Why are you talking to me at all? I called you names and told you to buzz off hours ago. I’m not even sorry about that. Nonetheless, it can’t be my charming personality and it can’t be—oh! Oh no, you’re not planning on calling your friends to come by for a real party, are you? Please don’t. I’m begging you. And no, I’m not above begging.”
“Whoa. Relax. You’re spinnin’ hard for a guy who just had a mojo reset.”
“My mojo did not reset,” I snapped, wrapping my fingers around the edge of the dish towel.
“You losin’ your marbles, Rafe-man?”
“I’m fine.”
No, I wasn’t fine at all. I was one kind word away from a mental breakdown.
Or maybe one kind look.
Gus leaned against the counter, studying me, his expression soft, contrite, and… vulnerable. It almost ruined my long-standing impression of him as a self-serving, obnoxious hockey jerk and made me wonder if I’d gotten it all wrong.
Maybe the universe had been telling me I’d never belonged at Smithton, and I’d stubbornly ignored the warnings. Maybe trying to prove that if I could survive injury and a year with Gus Langley, I could do anything had been an exercise in futility. Sacrifice and hard work were one thing…I didn’t have to be unhappy too.
But I was unhappy. It was so obvious that even my terrible roommate felt sorry for me.
And standing next to a pile of dirty dishes in a kitchen with bad lighting, scuffed, ugly cabinets and chipped ivory tiles with a guy I could barely tolerate had to be some kind of rock bottom.
I sniffed noisily and picked up the sponge.
Do not cry. Do not fucking cry.
“I’m sorry,” Gus said softly.
“For what?” I ran water over the dried remnants of baba ganoush.
“Taking your food, throwing too many parties, being too loud, too…me. Take your pick—I’m guilty.”
“Thanks. It’s okay.”
“It’s not, and we both know it.” Gus sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. “I guess I should—hey, don’t cry. I’m—shit, I’m so sorry. I—”
“I’m not crying,” I growled, blinking furiously.
“Okay, but your eyes are kinda watery, and if I had anything to do with that, I—”
And there went the last of my marbles.
“Ugh! Stop! Just stop. Stop talking, stop trying to be nice, stop being so…you! It’s terrible, the worst. Everything is a joke to you, every day is a party, and everyone gets to be your best buddy. Well, I don’t want to be your buddy. I don’t want anything to do with you. I’m sorry I came up with this absurd idea in the first place. It was dumb and mean and—”