philosophy. It’s about letting go of everything else and just being, and by doing that, letting your life happen. At least, that what my dad says.”
My gaze rapidly moves back and forth between them.
Nick stands up, grabbing his plate with one hand and patting my shoulder with the other. “Dude, kick back and enjoy and live. That’s what Maddy is saying.”
Madison follows him to the sink and starts helping him clean up the breakfast mess. Kick back and enjoy and live. I watch them as I finish my meal.
He drops a kiss on her head as he hands her a freshly washed plate. They sure are into each other, even if both of them are a little out there. It’s going to make Krystal and me stand out like a sore thumb. Their eyes. Body language. No, you can’t fake that.
No wonder Madison isn’t swallowing our story.
I’d be suspicious of us, too.
I’m still not convinced that Krystal is right, that having them believe we’re a couple is the only way to keep what went down with Daryl the idiot private for the both of us.
But on the off chance she’s right, one thing is for sure.
Madison Parker doesn’t strike me as a girl who would roll with being lied to. If I don’t make this believable, there goes my job.
Chapter Sixteen
“Krystal”
Through the side door, I slip quietly into the house to avoid everyone and pull out my earbud. My gaze shifts right and then left.
Silence.
Inside my room, I toss my iPod on the bed and then sit to remove my shoes. Not that I care, but I wonder where Jacob is. He wasn’t on the patio sleeping when I got back from my run.
On the patio.
I unlace and kick off my Nikes. Kind of sweet and it made figuring out what to do with him last night less problematic. He can be considerate.
Oh yuck, maybe he’s worried if he stays too close to me I might make a move on him.
You expect nothing, right?
A full-body shudder makes my cheeks flap. God, that moment was mortifying, seeing what he was thinking of me instead of his Buckingham-Palace stoic unresponsiveness.
I can’t believe he’s actually worried I might try something with him. Does he think I’m some kind of kinky sex fiend? The guy seriously needs to enter the twenty-first century.
True, what I do with Daryl is a bit on the fringe but, heck, we had a serious relationship, it’s nobody’s business, and lots of couples are into kink. All you’ve got to do is check the blogs or an online bookstore to know that.
Times have changed, Jacob. Clearly, he’s in the Stone Age, where people are still inclined to judge how others get their freak on.
Socially provincial.
I wonder where he’s from.
Definitely not California.
I thought we’d all moved beyond openly judging everything. Well, everyone except Jacob Merrick and parents.
Mom and Dad never would understand my thing with Daryl if they ever found out. No, they would freak. I’m pretty sure my parents don’t even think I have sex.
No, I haven’t had the safe-sex, let alone any sex, talk from either of them. Though I’d been warned by Kaley to be prepared for Mom’s family condoms speech.
I shudder again.
I head into the bathroom and turn on the shower. As I wait for the water to heat up, I strip, working not to see myself in the mirror, but my disobedient eyes stray there anyway.
My body—what I have—is nice. Muscled, long-limbed, but nothing to write home about. My boobs are too small, my hips too straight, and my skin too pale, but that California sun glow doesn’t work on a ballerina. My creamy paleness makes me look like a freak everywhere else, but on stage is a definite must.
Ballerinas must be long-limbed, lean, and pale.
I’m that; not a guy magnet.
Not that I care.
I want eyes unable to look away when I dance, not when I walk down the street. I’d rather land the audience than the sought-after guys in this world that most girls waste time pursuing.
The hot, unattainable, break your heart guy.
The guy who wrecks your life and moves on to the
My gaze rapidly moves back and forth between them.
Nick stands up, grabbing his plate with one hand and patting my shoulder with the other. “Dude, kick back and enjoy and live. That’s what Maddy is saying.”
Madison follows him to the sink and starts helping him clean up the breakfast mess. Kick back and enjoy and live. I watch them as I finish my meal.
He drops a kiss on her head as he hands her a freshly washed plate. They sure are into each other, even if both of them are a little out there. It’s going to make Krystal and me stand out like a sore thumb. Their eyes. Body language. No, you can’t fake that.
No wonder Madison isn’t swallowing our story.
I’d be suspicious of us, too.
I’m still not convinced that Krystal is right, that having them believe we’re a couple is the only way to keep what went down with Daryl the idiot private for the both of us.
But on the off chance she’s right, one thing is for sure.
Madison Parker doesn’t strike me as a girl who would roll with being lied to. If I don’t make this believable, there goes my job.
Chapter Sixteen
“Krystal”
Through the side door, I slip quietly into the house to avoid everyone and pull out my earbud. My gaze shifts right and then left.
Silence.
Inside my room, I toss my iPod on the bed and then sit to remove my shoes. Not that I care, but I wonder where Jacob is. He wasn’t on the patio sleeping when I got back from my run.
On the patio.
I unlace and kick off my Nikes. Kind of sweet and it made figuring out what to do with him last night less problematic. He can be considerate.
Oh yuck, maybe he’s worried if he stays too close to me I might make a move on him.
You expect nothing, right?
A full-body shudder makes my cheeks flap. God, that moment was mortifying, seeing what he was thinking of me instead of his Buckingham-Palace stoic unresponsiveness.
I can’t believe he’s actually worried I might try something with him. Does he think I’m some kind of kinky sex fiend? The guy seriously needs to enter the twenty-first century.
True, what I do with Daryl is a bit on the fringe but, heck, we had a serious relationship, it’s nobody’s business, and lots of couples are into kink. All you’ve got to do is check the blogs or an online bookstore to know that.
Times have changed, Jacob. Clearly, he’s in the Stone Age, where people are still inclined to judge how others get their freak on.
Socially provincial.
I wonder where he’s from.
Definitely not California.
I thought we’d all moved beyond openly judging everything. Well, everyone except Jacob Merrick and parents.
Mom and Dad never would understand my thing with Daryl if they ever found out. No, they would freak. I’m pretty sure my parents don’t even think I have sex.
No, I haven’t had the safe-sex, let alone any sex, talk from either of them. Though I’d been warned by Kaley to be prepared for Mom’s family condoms speech.
I shudder again.
I head into the bathroom and turn on the shower. As I wait for the water to heat up, I strip, working not to see myself in the mirror, but my disobedient eyes stray there anyway.
My body—what I have—is nice. Muscled, long-limbed, but nothing to write home about. My boobs are too small, my hips too straight, and my skin too pale, but that California sun glow doesn’t work on a ballerina. My creamy paleness makes me look like a freak everywhere else, but on stage is a definite must.
Ballerinas must be long-limbed, lean, and pale.
I’m that; not a guy magnet.
Not that I care.
I want eyes unable to look away when I dance, not when I walk down the street. I’d rather land the audience than the sought-after guys in this world that most girls waste time pursuing.
The hot, unattainable, break your heart guy.
The guy who wrecks your life and moves on to the
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