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I bite back my grin.
8 – I’m not scared of your brother
My heart drops, if only he knew how important that point is to me.
9 – I’m taller than you.
10 – I can’t stop thinking about you.
7
Charlotte
I quickly close the email and sit back in my chair.
He can’t stop thinking about me.
Well, the feeling is completely mutual. I’ve thought of nothing but him since Saturday night. I stare at the computer screen for awhile, wondering what to do.
He really hurt my pride the other week at my house, but worse than that, he hurt my feelings. I don’t like the power he has over me, nobody has ever had the ability to hurt me before.
But I know he could do a really good job of it… will do a good job of it.
I blow out a dejected breath. Spencer Jones may be the most fun man I’ve met in a long time, but we are better off just being friends. I already know what the future holds for us. I don’t want to be one of his harem. He made it very clear that he isn’t interested in virgins.
And even though I told him that my virginity ship has sailed…. I also know deep down in my heart that telling him I was no longer a virgin was an appalling lie, and he isn’t actually attracted to women like me.
He likes the challenge.
I would too if I were him.
God, I can’t believe that he actually thinks I may have slept with Wyatt. That’s laughable.
“Do you want to come up to level fourteen, Lottie?” Sarah asks.
“What for?” I frown.
“It’s Callam’s birthday. They‘re having cake.” She wiggles her eyebrows, and I smile.
“How old is Mr Hot Dick turning?” I ask.
“Who cares? All I know is that he’s old enough to do terrible things to my body.”
I giggle as she pulls me towards the lifts and we get inside.
“I just wish he would get with the program and do it already.” She sighs.
“You should ask Callam out?”
“Yeah.” She thinks for a moment. “Maybe I will.” She shrugs. “If I used my brain and had some foresight, I would have popped out of his birthday cake.”
I burst out laughing, getting a vision of her covered in whipped cream and popping out of a huge cake. “I don’t think level fourteen is prepared for your level of hotness, Sarah.”
“I know, right?”
* * *
The ceiling of my room is plastered with fancy, swirling circular shapes, and my apartment is dead quiet as I stare up at it. It’s the early hours of the morning, but I can’t sleep. I’m preoccupied with this weird feeling—one of realisation. It’s as if my eyes have finally been open to what I’m missing out on by being a Prescott.
