The Butterfly Knot のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 30

❀ Kate ❀ Five hours ago, Virginia Beach “Dude—what the hell was that!?” Tristan’s dumbfounded voice trailed close behind me as I hurried back to The Oceanfront Inn, head held high despite how desperate and lost I was feeling inside. “We're never going to hear the end of your little stunt back there! You were so close to winning this thing! Why would you throw it all away!? What came up, exactly?” He wasn't wrong; I effortlessly sailed into the women's finals without breaking a sweat, and had been the talk of the beach all morning. Not a single one of my competitors wanted this as badly as I did, so I was anything but surprised to find everyone gaping at me in astonishment as I formally backed out and abruptly left the scene. Turns out my heart just wasn't in it like I thought it was. Not anymore. You’re doing the right thing Kate; Just tell him

❋ Erin ❋ My wildest dreams have finally come true; How did the universe KNOW I wanted some hunky Italian man’s scorching hot coffee romantically splashed all over my poor breasts, with an audience here commemorating the moment? I could officially die ‘happy’ now. “Cavalo! I didn’t see you, Miss. Please accept my sincerest—” A deep, concerned voice cut through my internal rant like a hot knife slicing into butter. The husky and foreign sound of it alone was enough to make my already restless knees buckle. Watching that captivating pair of lush lips maneuver their way around at least fifty different apologies, I momentarily forgot about my own pain and swooned a little. I’ve always been a sucker for gorgeous Mediterranean types, man or woman, and this one didn’t disappoint my eyes the way he had my brand new silk camisole. It was soaked with triple shot e

❀ Kate ❀ I ran like demons from hell were chasing me. My feet became a blur after some time, hardly recognizable as they slapped against the sleek black belt with ferocity. I wasn’t paying attention to anything else happening around me at LA Fitness, focusing on numbers and numbers alone. How many calories I was burning, how good it felt to expel my stored energy; Watching my heart rate steadily climb. I hadn’t trained this hard since meeting Sawyer, not even for the competition I backed out of, and man were my sore muscles feeling it. Cursing under ragged breath, I quietly vowed never to miss another pre-planned gym session again. Especially not to sit on my ass and eat fattening ice cream at one in the afternoon, with someone who obviously didn’t take me seriously. After suffering from last night’s embarrassment, I only wanted to do one thing; Run, and I was. Running, running, running m

♬ Blythe ° “So...Sawyer,” I started with a calm smile, chewing the bottom portion of my lip in thought as she poured her third shot since we’d settled at a community table, beside a round built-in ceramic hot tub. The dusky air was calm all around us, save for a light salty breeze making it’s presence known by stimulating my nostrils. Her curious blue eyes shifted in my direction for a brief second before returning to their post; A rather large clay glass used for hammering tequila like I’ve honestly never seen before. One forearm resting against the table, I watched Sawyer’s slender fingers tap lightly in my peripheral view as she eased back into her chair. When addressing someone, I like to maintain eye contact. It’s respectful. “That’s my naaaaameee...a damn stupid one too if you ask me.” She slurred with a sarcastic giggle after a moment. Lifting her shot glass up, the beautiful tow-headed blonde began to laugh obnoxiously. “I mean, what girls do

◦◦ Sawyer ◦◦ “...Take a shot with me?” Kate’s best friend asked without really asking. I could tell by that urgent tone, and cocked an eye brow in response. Though there wasn’t much of a chance to object—Almost immediately after placing his order, a heavily made up bartender slammed two mini clear glasses in front of us on her way to another rowdy table. My gaze lingered on the scantily dressed redhead’s retreating profile for a second. She seemed vaguely familiar at first sight, but I wouldn’t be surprised if every bar keep in Naples knew who I was. I hop around town searching for a good time often enough; It’s just I’m never sober for long so it’s not like I’ve ever remembered the names of anyone who served me. “You drink vodka, right? Or was it whiskey? Rum??” Tristan squinted his eyes shut and drummed a few fingers against his head, trying to recall. The blundering performance he was putting on amused me, so I threw him a bone with a friendly—albeit tight— smile.