15.0 Scarlett's Art Of Running From The Truth

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"Before I know it, he's got both of my hands in one of his in a vice-like grip above my head, and he's pinning me to the wall using his hips

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"Before I know it, he's got both of my hands in one of his in a vice-like grip above my head, and he's pinning me to the wall using his hips. Holy shit. His other hand grabs my ponytail and yanks down, bringing my face up, and his lips are on mine. It's only just not painful. I moan into his mouth, giving his tongue an opening. He takes full advantage, his tongue expertly exploring my mouth. I have never been kissed like this."

Mira looks up from the book she has been so indulgently reading to me and I wait for her eyebrows to arch up in a questioning manner. When they do, all I can do is bend over my knees and exhale a loud barfing sound. Honestly, if I wasn't worried about ruining the coffee-shop we're sitting in and getting kicked out, I would have actually vomited.

"Seriously? This is how you react to an international best-seller?" Mira narrows her eyes.

I burst out laughing, choosing humor over cursing like a sailor. Even when Mira rolls her eyes and slams her copy of Fifty Shades of Grey next to her empty mug of coffee, I can't stop laughing. She folds her arms across her chest and chooses to growl towards me. Wiping my eyes, I finally straighten up, still coughing out random fits of laughter that cause the people at the tables around ours to stare at me.

"I swear, Scarlett, you don't have a single romantic bone in your body." Mira shakes her head.

"Romantic? You call a guy pulling out your hair and slamming you against a wall romantic? I'm sorry, I call that abuse." I raise my eyebrows and lean back in my seat, still smiling.

"It's supposed to be sexy," Mira tells me.

"I don't care what it's supposed to be," I point out. "As long as it involves all this hitting and pain and obsessive control ... I'm sorry, I'd rather pass."

"That's just your personal preference."

"Yes, it is." I reach towards my coffee, raising the mug to my lips. "I didn't say you have to agree with me. You can try as much BDSM shit as you like. Just keep it the hell away from me."

"And you'd feel the same way even if Aiden liked this stuff?" Mira challenges me.

"Firstly --" I lift a finger to point at Mira. "-- Aiden isn't like Christain Grey -- thank heavens -- and secondly ... if he was, I don't care, I'd feel the same way about this stuff."

Mira smiles knowingly and I already know I don't like what she's thinking; her sly smile is enough of a sign that it's nothing good. She's always got something to say about my relationship with Aiden, that being where the problem begins in the first place. Mira's biggest concern is how we can call our relationship a relationship when we barely spend any time together. Not only do we have a long-distance relationship, but we had no time to get to know each other before Aiden moved to Boston. According to Mira, we're both just losers who know nothing about real life.

'Wait a couple of months and you'll come out of this teen-fiction novel you're both pretending is real life,' she always says.

"What is it now?" I ask Mira when she refuses to voice her thoughts.

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