DECEIT (B723) by Hazel Grace (ebook reader for surface pro .TXT) 📕

parking lot of my condo. “If you’ll give me a second chance, I’ll make the next one better.”

A second chance.

This man doesn’t know me, and he wants another opportunity. It’s been such a long time since I’ve opened myself up to hope for love again that I don’t even remember what it feels like.

You’re not trash. You deserve to be loved. 

“I enjoyed it,” I quip lightly. “Maybe next time, we’ll do our research on the movies playing before going.”

“Yeah?” I feel his hazel eyes on me. “I’d like that. Can I walk you up?”

“Sure.”

This poor man puts himself in another awkward and silent position with me as he walks me right up to my blue door and still fucking gives me his breath-taking smile.

“If you were trying to make me feel better,” he says, shoving his hands into the pocket of his jeans. “I appreciate it.”

“No, really, I had a good time.”

He tucks his chin into his chest before lifting it back to look at me. “I’m going to kiss your cheek, and you can slap me after if you want.”

Leaning in, he smells of citrus and clovers as he presses his soft lips to the side of my face. He lets it linger there for two extra seconds before straightening his spine and giving me a little bit of space.

“Have a good night, Emmy Lou. I’ll wait the textbook definition of what dating says to do and text you in forty-eight hours.”

“That’s a thing?”

“I think so. Unless they changed it. I haven’t been out with someone in a while.”

“Really, how long?”

“About a year and a half.”

“Was she married?” Alexander lets out a laugh that hits my gut and sends a butterfly or two fluttering in it.

“Nah, she was a gold digger. Didn’t like me too much. Just the Aston Martin and my bank account.”

I groan because of my big mouth. “Now I feel like an asshole.”

“At least you were straight up.”

“I’m sorry, it was a joke.”

“I know.” He shrugs. “I’m not going to let one person change my whole outlook on things. Life is too short.”

“Right.”

Right. Right. Right. 

He jerks his head to my door. “It’s late. I took you out on a work night like an inconsiderate douche.”

“I agreed.” I try my best to give him a grateful smile because I am. “And it was needed.”

“Glad to be of service.” He gives me a slight bow.

“Thanks again for tonight.”

“Anytime.” I turn for my door to unlock it, but his unwieldy gaze on my back causes me to turn around.

He doesn’t speak, just steps forward enough to cause my spine to hit the hard surface behind me.

Raising both his arms, his eyes fasten to mine before he props both of them on each side of my head and bends to hover his lips over mine.

Teasingly or hesitantly, he lingers there for a moment then flattens them to mine, clasping the bottom of my mouth between the softness of his.

With our kiss, he hints that he may be searching for something between us, and I think he found it because his actions quicken for a beat before we’re both exhaling heavy bits of air between each other.

“Fuck the forty-eight-hour rule,” he mutters with another graze of his lips. “I’ll text you tomorrow, Emmy. Good night.”

I swallow as he looks down at me. “Night.”

Picking my keys out of my hands, he unlocks my door and gives me a little push inside before handing them back over.

And with a quirk of his mouth, Alexander takes off down my small porch with a confident pep in his step, leaving behind a slight bit of hope that my life won’t forever be so lonely.

“She needs to go,” Kyson rants, not-so-quietly again for the millionth time. He begins to pace the gravel in front of my trailer, kicking the small rocks and looking frustrated and all sorts of pissed off. “We’re not doing this repeatedly.”

“Doing what exactly?” Mills chimes in before taking a bite of his breakfast sandwich, not hiding the fact that he’s highly interested in this conversation. “The blonde, right?”

It’s been four days since Cam stepped foot in my life after I picked her up, and Kyson will not drop that she’s around. He’s acting like she and I are playing house, and she cooks, cleans, and irons my clothes for me.

And to be completely honest, I almost forgot for a second that she was even here because my brain has been on Emmy nonstop since she left.

Because you told her to leave. 

Repeatedly. 

“Bish,” Kyson continues, his tone lightening as though that’s going to get me to listen and take action on what he says immediately. Obviously, I haven’t, she’s still here. “We can get her into a facility, the best one. However, she’s gonna have to do this shit on her own.”

“Ohhhh.” The reality and truth all of a sudden comes tumbling down on Mills as he feels the need to publicly announce everything like he’s a commentator. “She’s addicted to the white shit.”

My jaw ticks at the exact moment Marty’s hand crashes over the back of Mills’s head, saving me the trouble.

“Would you shut the fuck up,” he sneers next to him. “Put two and two together.”

“That makes four,” Mills replies. “And with the four of us, we shouldn’t be standing here bitching about a blonde.”

“Emmy will be back tonight. She’ll have what we need.” My heart races at her name, and the empty pit of my stomach starts to ache again.

I should be used to this.

Emmy and I don’t play house anymore. We do this.

She’s been doing her thing—I may or may not have been checking her Instagram—and I’ve been…ignoring everything. I can’t deal with Camilla being back, taking care of Hardy and Scarlett, then my mixed bullshit with how I feel about Emmy all at the same time.

I feel like I’m about to explode at any minute now. My brain can’t handle any more rabid emotions coursing through it, and I’m tired of thinking about everyone.

I need stronger weed.

“She’s not coming.”