Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
North steps inside to grab a hat and scarf to put on our snowman and I find some rocks for his eyes and mouth. North uses his gloved hand to brush stray snow off its misshapen body. The grin on his face is easy and boyish, the kind of smile that makes you forget that he’s a professional athlete and not just some guy who’s too good to be true. He catches me watching him, and his grin shifts into something softer, something that tightens inside me.
“You know,” he starts, his voice warm despite the cold, “we leave for Atlanta tomorrow. Quick trip—Atlanta, Washington, then we’re back Saturday night.”
“Don’t worry, Paquette. I’m going to make sure you get enough sex today to hold you over.”
“Yes, you are,” he says in a low rumble that causes goose bumps to prickle on my nape. “But I was talking about plans when I get back.”
“We’re making plans now?” I tease, adjusting one of the stick arms on our snowman.
North nods, crouching to scoop a handful of snow, rolling it idly between his palms. “Yeah. Foster and Mazzy are throwing a New Year’s Eve party that night. Should be a good time. You going?”
I glance at him, his blue eyes brighter than the sky overhead, and for a fleeting second I imagine it. A festive party, the laughter of the Titans family filling the air, champagne glasses clinking as the countdown begins. And then, when the clock strikes midnight, North turning to me, his eyes alight with something deeper, leaning in for a kiss under a lingering sprig of mistletoe. I imagine the faint taste of champagne on his lips, his hands at my waist as the twelve o’clock toll sounds. It’s an image I can almost feel—the warmth, the anticipation, the closeness.
Then the memories hit, a sharp, sudden assault, like the snap of camera flashes.
Flash. Spinning around the dance floor, the hem of my pale blue dress swirling as I laugh, the sound ringing out like a promise. His hand is warm on my waist, steady, guiding.
Flash. His lips brushing against mine for the first time, a featherlight touch that makes my heart pound. My first kiss, sweet and intoxicating, leaving me breathless and dizzy.
Flash. The heat of his whispered words against my ear, words that make me feel wanted, desired. The first flicker of something awakening inside me, a mix of nerves and excitement.
Flash. His gentle coaxing, his hand resting on mine, guiding me as I fumble to slip out of my panties beneath my dress. His voice low, soothing, telling me it’s okay. That I’m safe. That he wants something to remember me by, so I don’t hesitate to hand them over. I’d do anything for him.
Flash. Bright light, so blinding it sears into my brain. A cacophony of laughter, jeers, the sound of my name shouted like a punch line. My stomach dropping into a bottomless pit as I clutch at my dress, at my shame, as I realize none of it was true.
Flash. My feet pounding against the gym floor as I run, the noise chasing me, the walls tilting and spinning as if the whole world is mocking me. A cruel prank aimed right at me. The ache is so sharp, it feels like I might shatter.
The images slam into me one after another, a merciless slideshow of humiliation and betrayal, leaving me cold and breathless. The New Year’s Eve fantasy crumbles into ash, leaving behind the harsh truth I’ve lived with ever since.
I can’t. Not with him. Not with anyone.
I force myself back to the present, to the snowman standing lopsided in North’s yard, his crooked smile almost mocking me. I feel the hurt physically and I have to swallow past the lump of bitterness in my throat.
I focus in on North’s handsome and earnest face, his expression open and hopeful. For a moment, I want to tell him everything. To let it spill out, messy and raw, so he can see the jagged edges of what’s inside me and the reason why this can’t ever be anything more than sex.
Plastering on a coy smile that feels paper thin, I step into him. “I’m thinking we should go inside and get warmed up.”
His hand circles the back of my neck, heat sizzling in his eyes. “We will. But what about New Year’s?”
My stomach sinks as I prepare to lie to him. “I actually have plans that night. Some friends are doing a thing.”
His brows lift slightly, and there’s the smallest pause before he says, “Sounds fun.”
“It will be,” I say confidently, envisioning myself sitting in pajamas in front of the TV, eating potato chips and drinking a beer to ring in the new year by myself.
North stares at me and I note the easy smile is still there, but there’s a flicker of something behind it—disappointment. He’s trying not to let it show, but I see it in the way his gaze drops to the snowman longer than necessary, his hands brushing along its lopsided edge.