Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 99545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“I deleted that stupid dating app,” I blurt out.
“Why? I spent so much time on it.”
“Oh be quiet, you did not.”
I hear the deep timbre of his laugh behind me, and when I glance back again, his big frame is leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking…
Stop looking at him, Eliza.
Lord he’s cute.
And that accent is doing me no favors; it’s no wonder half the student population is drooling all over this guy, men included.
Instead of me going into the bathroom by myself once the other girl exits, a hand stops me.
“You don’t actually have to pee?”
“No.”
“Can I come in? Please, we need to talk.”
Talk? “About what?”
Jack raises his head and looks up, the living room of the fraternity house growing more and more crowded as we stand here, waiting.
He leans in. “Eliza, please—I just want to have a chat with you in private. Please. I can’t think of a single way to get you alone.”
He wants to have a chat with me alone?
“You’ve had plenty of chats with me alone—you don’t have to stuff yourself into a tiny bathroom at a party to do it.”
“Uh, are you going inside, or not—some of us have to use the toilet,” the guy behind Jack interrupts.
“Mate, go take a piss outside in the bushes like the rest of us have done,” Jack tells him with authority, then gazes back down at me. “Just a few minutes, Eliza.”
“Is that why you’re here? So we can talk?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you just call? Or text me?”
“Isn’t it the same thing? I’m trying to make an effort.”
Oh.
Oh…
I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if he came inside. “Fine. But you’re sitting on the toilet.”
“Can I at least close the lid?”
“No.” I laugh, stepping inside the small room. There’s a single sink set atop a small, white cabinet and a toilet located next to a small window.
Compact water closet.
Jack reaches around me and closes the door.
Locks it for privacy.
At least, I hope it’s for privacy and not so he can murder me while we’re in here.
He closes the lid on the toilet and sits, making himself as comfortable as he can with how large he is. Legs spread, he crosses his arms.
I lean my butt against the counter and cross my arms, too. “Well? What did you want to chat about?”
I love the way he strings a sentence together and find myself mirroring his British phrases.
“Just that…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, and I’m not sure what that means. Actually I know exactly what that means. I’m just wondering if you’ve been able to stop thinking about me.”
He hurriedly blurts out the jumble of words, and I hesitate—piece it all together—before responding with a sassy, “Are you asking if I’ve been doodling your name on my assignment notebook?”
Jack laughs. “I’m not sure what that reference means, but sure, if that’s how you want to interpret that question.”
I uncross my arms and rest my hands on the countertop behind me, wishing there were more space in this tiny room. I reach over and unlatch the window, pushing it up to let some fresh air inside.
Is it hot in here or is it just me?
The breeze passing through the screen feels so much better, but I still feel stifled. There is nothing more nerve-racking than the hard truth staring up at you from a toilet seat.
Toilet confessional. I laugh to myself.
“Have I been thinking about you?” I repeat the question to buy myself time. It’s a trick I learned in a class about interviewing.
Jack nods.
Would it kill me to be honest right now? Would it kill me to tell him yes, I can’t stop thinking about him either? To the detriment of my relationship with Kaylee…but we can’t choose who we fall in love with, can we? Not that this is love in any way, but I do find myself feeling some kind of feels for him, and isn’t that saying something?
Do I owe it to him to say it?
Do I owe it to myself?
Do I owe it to Kaylee to keep my mouth shut?
I want to be sick, right there in that toilet. Toss my cookies to end this dreadful conversation entirely.
“Eliza?” His soft voice says my name.
“I’m sorry, I…” Clearing my throat, I turn to face the mirror, but that’s worse—gazing at my own reflection and the expression on my face.
Behind me, Jack stands, his head above mine, clear eyes looking back at me, his hands rising to my shoulders and resting there.
I watch as his head dips.
Feel his lips touch the sensitive skin below my ear.
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“Do you?”
My eyes close with those words, his breath sending a tingle down my spine. God I love kisses on my neck.
I tilt my head.
An invitation.
Jack’s eyes find mine in the mirror as his mouth finds the pulse below my ear. Makes contact.