Buy My Soul (Sixty Days 2)

He straightened up, and the offence was obvious. “That night doesn’t mean shit,” he said. “It was me being a dickhead. What I want from Paige is nothing to do with that bullshit. I like her. Not just like that.” I didn’t interrupt his pause. “I really like her, ok? I’ll pay whatever it takes to see her.”

I lit up a cigarette slowly. “So you’ll pay a big slab of your family fortune just to make sure she’s doing ok ahead of the sixty days reaching their conclusion?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll pay a big slab of whatever necessary to make sure she’s doing ok. Sixty days can get fucked, I’m not waiting that long.”

“And what then?” I prompted between drags. “What fairytale outcome do you have in mind after burning a whole chunk of cash to spend time with her?”

He shrugged hard. “Whatever fairytale outcome she wants when she gets to know me. I’m not the kind of asshole to push her into anything she doesn’t want to do. She can make up her own mind what comes next.”

His words made me laugh. “You think I’m pushing her into things she doesn’t want to do?”

“That’s what you do, isn’t it? Pay girls too much cash to say no, then force them into a whole world of shit they can’t escape from. That’s what you did to Rebecca Lane. That’s why she’s gone on the run, right? Just to get away from you.”

Oh, if only he fucking knew.

Running away from me was the last thing Rebecca Lane fucking wanted by the time the end came around.

I didn’t have the slightest interest in arguing my case with such a sad little white knight on wet sand. Not now, not ever.

“Tell me this,” I said. “If Paige Emmerson returned to campus as usual tomorrow morning, would it be safe to say you’d be there to take good care of her?”

He stiffened at the question. “Take care of her? Take care of her from what?”

I took a step forward to get a better look at him. “From the idiots around college. From any assholes who come calling. From herself.”

“Yeah, I’d take care of her,” he said, and his voice was watertight in its steadiness. “Is that what you’re planning? To return her to campus? What about the sixty days?”

“The sixty days are no concern of yours,” I snapped. “The only thing of concern to you would be the girl you’re so invested in safeguarding.”

“I’d be there,” he assured me. “I’d be there for whatever she needed. There’s no way I’d let anyone pull any shit on her. No way for anything.”

“What is this about?” I pushed. “A teenage crush? Some morbid fascination with damsels in distress? Guilt at groping her pretty little tits on the beach with your idiot fucking mates that night?”

Again, the offence was obvious. “I just like her,” he said. “I like her for her. I like her because she seems like such a nice girl around campus. She’s honest, and kind, and doesn’t talk shit about anyone.”

“And gorgeous, yes?” I prodded.

This time he at least nodded. “Yeah, and she’s gorgeous.” He scuffed the sand with his shoe. “She’s absolutely fucking beautiful.”

The pang in my gut was loud and clear. More fucking crippling than I’d have ever imagined.

It was the truth in his words. His clear fascination. The genuine enthusiasm in his voice, so fucking genuine.

And I felt it too.

She really was absolutely fucking beautiful. Honest and kind. Genuine and giving.

Fascinating.

And mine.

That’s when I knew it beyond all doubt, despite every scrap of cynicism blaring in my soul.

She was mine.

Whatever the fucking cost to take care of her for all time.

“So what happens now? You dropping her back at uni?” he pushed, and I realised with a jolt I’d been staring at the sand and not at him.

My eyes met his in the darkness and clashed hard, two men brimming with soul level desperation for the same glorious girl.

My girl.

“No,” I said. “I’m not dropping her back at uni.”

And with that statement the tides turned inside me. A whole backlash of ocean waves pouring right the way through my brain.

There was no way I was dropping that beautiful fucking creature back at university in the morning.

Oh Lord, how the craziness made me smile, grinning like a fucking lunatic as I embraced the whole sorry lot of it.

I backed away with an easy laugh, and he followed me with eager steps, one for every one of mine.

“But you said…” he snapped. “You said you’d be dropping her back. How much do I need to pay you? I’ll fucking pay it!”

“She’s not for fucking sale,” I told him, smiling right up at the starry sky. “She’s not for sale and she never fucking will be.”

“I don’t get it,” he said and kept on coming. “I don’t fucking get it. Why the hell not? I have money.”