Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
If she weren’t beside me and I had my phone, I’d be Googling how to kill Dillon Poncy without getting caught. Maybe instead of Ambrosia’s podcasts, I should start listening to some true crime ones.
I swallow around the lump in my throat and try not to lose my temper as she continues, “His mom showed up at his apartment when I was there, and that’s when I knew things weren’t good between his mom and me. She always looked down her nose at me during class, and I never understood why. She never called me Ambrosia, only Ms. Mercer, and I heard her tell Dillon, I was ‘rather lumpy.’” She lets out a self-deprecating laugh, and I squeeze her hand, willing her to know that isn’t the truth at all.
“You’re not lumpy at all, heart-stopper.”
Her lips quirk up in a dazzling grin. “You just want to see my lumpy bits.”
I flash an equally dazzling grin in return. “I do, but first, I want to know if you kicked him in the dick for what his mom said.”
She snorts, shaking her head. “I didn’t.”
“Tragic.”
“True,” she says with a laugh, and it’s finally her normal one. The one that warms me from the inside out. “When I confronted him about it, he told me he didn’t care what she said. That he liked my body. But then when we got intimate, I felt really off and shut it down. I felt like he was judging me or focusing on my lumpy parts, and it fucked with my head. He accused me of being a tease and tried to pressure me into going further, and I got pissed. I broke up with him right there.”
Yeah, so I was pissed about what Dr. Fucking Cuntbag Bitch said, but now, I don’t care if I go to jail for murder.
I run my tongue along my teeth and nod, trying to will my heart to slow down in my chest. I clear my throat and watch as another tear trails along her cheek. “I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself.” She gradually moves her gaze to mine, her whiskey eyes a little lighter than before. “As much as I want to believe that a professor at the University of Bellevue would be ethically correct, I am not naïve. Besides all that, she’s wrong.” Ambrosia’s lips press together, her eyes never leaving mine. “Dillon Poncy was an idiot to make you feel anything but perfect. You knew your worth and let his ass go. So don’t let his idiot mother, who raised the idiot Dillon Poncy, have any kind of opinion on your brilliance. She is a washed-up Channel 5 newscaster. I know she won an Emmy, but then she became too big for her pantsuits and lost her spot on the channel. She is angry that you’re going to go so much further than she ever did, and that you knew her son was trash and you dumped him.” Her lips twitch again, and I smile, squeezing her hand. “You will reach your goals because you won’t accept anything else. If you have to memorize every single thing, then I know you will.”
She blinks, her eyes never wavering from mine as she nods. “I will—hell, I have.”
“I know,” I say softly. “And not that you’re hiding your dyslexia, but Ambrosia, it doesn’t hold you back. I didn’t even know. Fuck, baby, you’re so confident, mesmerizing, and wildly smart.”
Her lips curve a bit, and I feel as if I’ve won a damn medal. She swallows, still looking into my eyes. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
I don’t look away. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I haven’t been nice to you,” she says almost shyly, and she’s so cute, I want to squish her.
I shrug. “I think you’ve been cautious, and I get it. I don’t have the best reputation, and while you say I’m not your type, I know I am. But unlike the fools before me, I’ll treat you the way you deserve.” Her eyes dance with mine, moving back and forth, looking for a lie that isn’t there. Feeling my confidence flow through me, I declare, “Just waiting for you to give me a chance, heart-stopper.”
Her other hand comes up, and I almost think it’s to touch my face, but instead, she wipes her face. She looks out at the ice, but before I can follow her gaze, I feel her other hand envelop both of ours. I look down to see her small hands around my big one before she scoots closer to me, her thigh and arm touching mine. She looks up at me, and I swear it takes everything in me not to kiss her sweet mouth.
It’s right there.
Mere inches away. But I don’t move.
“Do you need to hit the ice?”