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In our system, I correct myself. I let out a sigh and rested my forehead in the palm of my hand. I’m so confused about everything right now, and nothing is making sense to me, especially Travis. He’s so hard and cold one minute, and then with the flip of a switch, he turns sweet, caring, and almost-protective the next when I have a break down. I’m left wondering if this is part of his game, his manipulative ploy he uses to brainwash women. He seemed so genuine at times, though, sending me all kinds of mixed signals which leave me more puzzled.
I swivel my body around in the kitchen chair and look to the large upholstered storage bench that sits at the end of my bed. There are no clothes laid out for me today, which indicates to me perhaps they’re giving me an intermission from the drama. I’ll keep my fingers crossed that this is the case, and I’ll be left undisturbed for the day. I glance around the room and spy a bookcase by the entertainment center. Instantly, I get excited, hopping up from my seat and making a bee line for the collection.
Books have always been the absolute, hands-down, best way for me to escape reality. Over the course of my life, especially when I’d found myself in any type of emotional turmoil, reading kept the stressful and negative thoughts at bay. It enables me to leave myself behind and sink into my imagination. When I read a book, I just get pulled in; that’s the power of words.
I see there are quite a few to choose from in both hardback and paperback. I squat down to look on the lower shelves, and I’m immediately drawn to the set of my favorite books—the Harry Potter series. I’ve never been one to read a book more than once, but these books were so compelling and full of imagination, I may just revisit them. It doesn’t matter how old someone is—Harry Potter is for everyone.
I continue scanning over the bookcase and notice one entire shelf is designated to romance novels. Hmph, I’ve never really paid attention to that particular genre before. In the past, I always bypassed romance, as I found myself drawn to history and science fiction. I run my fingers along the covers slowly, reading their names. “Fifty Shades of Grey by E.L. James,” I say aloud and pluck the book from the shelf, leaving an empty spot. The cover looks streamlined but intriguing enough, so I turn it over to read the excerpt. I remember some of the buzz going around campus about this book, but I never really paid any attention to it. I was too busy wrapped up in my own corner of the world to care about investigating it.
I give up on the internal debate with myself on whether or not to give it a go. “Oh, what the heck, why not?” I ask myself, and then settle onto the sofa and crack open the novel to begin reading. After reading the first few chapters, the book promises to be a tantalizing read, and I can tell something juicy is going to happen really soon. I almost feel like I should be climbing under the covers with a flashlight to read this, as if I’m hiding a dirty little secret.
It’s an intriguing storyline, entertaining, and actually somewhat amusing. In my mind, I poke fun at the absurdity regarding the lack of good decision-making skills this girl has acquired over her lifetime. She is, after all, only twenty-one, and I find myself pausing for a moment, thinking about how I’m the same age. Is this the dimwitted mindset most girls my age have? I shake my head—no way. I have to remind myself this is the reason they call it fiction; it’s all a farce, meant to provide people with one thing only…entertainment.
The scene leading up to the characters’ first kiss makes my belly flip, and I remember Travis having that same effect on me, except he made my belly flip tenfold. I unconsciously chew on my thumbnail while I read on into the next chapter, totally engrossed.
I’m a quarter of the way into the paperback book when things really start to heat up. When I get to a scene where she’s entering his ‘playroom’ for the first time, I want to shut the book and walk away. The only thing this girl and I have in common is that she’s a virgin and she has apprehension. She’s got a few screws loose putting up with him. She would actually choose to let someone dominate her, just like Nick wants to dominate me? I shudder at the thought.
Yep, this girl deserves whatever she’s got coming her way. You can bet your bottom dollar if it were me, I’d be running for the hills, screaming like crazy and not looking back. But that’s the biggest difference between me and this fictional girl—she has a choice to run for the hills; I don’t. I gaze at the intimidating curtains across the room with a frown and think to myself, This shit is not a fun fantasy, not at all. It’s real and scares the daylights out of me, and I wonder for a moment if Nick put these books here on purpose.
