My Side by Tara Brown Read Free Book Online

was
missing, like him.
    He gave me a look,
“How many books you reading a week? You think I haven’t noticed you’re here
every night? All you do is hang here.”
    I frowned and started
putting things into cupboards, “I’m getting in the habit for school. What does
it matter?”
    He grabbed my hand and
I watched the shift. He went from joking with me for being a nice girl, to
trying to take my pants off. He leaned against me, pushing me into the counter.
He cocked his head, glanced down the top of my shirt, and then placed his hands
on either side of me, trapping me, “My sister reads those. Calls them
one-handed reads.”
    My cheeks flushed but
I didn’t back down. I leaned into him, pressing my chest right into his, “Yeah,
that’s what all girls call them. Nice girls just don’t say it out loud. They’re
better than the real thing. The Brothers of County Claire don’t leave their
shit everywhere or have mood swings. They don’t check out other girls. They get
me off and get lost, and I don’t need shots and regular check ups.”
    His eyes locked on
mine, “Maybe you just haven’t had the right real thing.”
    I fluttered my lashes
at him, “Oh, you mean being graced with one whole night with the lead singer of
Thin Ice?” I pushed him off me and walked past him, “Thanks but I’ll pass.
    He grabbed my arm, but
I dropped my book and went for my mace. He looked startled, dropping his grip.
    He put his hands in
the air, “I wasn’t going to hurt you. I would never. I thought we were messing
around.”
    I swallowed and looked
down. I bent and picked up my book. My breath got caught in my throat. I turned
and ran for my bedroom. I closed the door and gripped the book to my chest with
my back against the door.
    I didn’t want him to
see it. I was strong once. I didn’t need help. I had to be strong.
    I curled up on my bed
and started my book. I saw every face as his. He made my one-handed read better
than it had ever been. Fantasy was so much better than reality.
    I fell asleep as I
finished the book but the night was a hot one.
    I tossed once more
before flinging even the last sheet off of me. My tank top and boxers felt like
a sweaty death trap. Even with the windows both open, the heat was intense. I
growled, climbing out of the bed, and stumbled down the hall to the kitchen. I
opened the double-door fridge and let the cool air blast me. I sighed, throwing
my head back. The heat was too much.
    I glanced at the
carton of almond milk he swore by and took it from the fridge. It was cold and
damp in my hands. I held the cold carton against my chest. I lifted my tank
top, tucked it under my boobs, and grabbed another carton. I held it against my
stomach, flipping them both as they heated from my sweating body. I closed my
eyes and moaned. “Mmmmm.”
    “That’s a good sound.”
He interrupted my cooling bliss.
    I jumped, putting the
cartons back. My cheeks flushed, not that it mattered. They were flushed
anyway.
    The light of the
fridge shone down on my guilty face, like a spotlight.
    He leaned against the
counter, in boxers only. I could just see his tattoos in the dimly-lit room.
    I turned, closing the
door, “Sorry.” The kitchen was nearly pitch black with the fridge closed.
    He switched on the
small light above the stove, “Did it feel good?”
    I nodded, “I’m dying.”
    He walked around the
counter, his heat made my skin burst into a fresh layer of sweat. He reached
beside me, brushing his hairy arm against my thigh, pulling the freezer drawer
out. He pulled a bag of edamame we got from Costco, and passed it to me. I took
it and smiled.
    “How was the book?”
His tone was laden with absurdity.
    I laughed, “Good.
Predictable. I like that.” I went to put the frozen bag on my chest but he
shook his head, taking it back.
    He reached around
behind me, “On the back of your neck.” I jumped when the shocking cold hit my
skin. He held it there, looming over me with his intense stare. I made