1000 Hours Outside Book Novels & Stories

"But where are you right now? It's been 10 years..." A deep sigh escaped his mouth as he flipped the pages of the book. He was mindlessly riffling through, but his mind wandered off again. The windstorm gushed outside and was tapping softly on his glass windows. Snapping out from his trance, he looked out and saw the wind furiously howling outside.

He took me straight to his room and just told me to stay in his room area and not go anywhere until he came. And here I am .. spending almost two hours sitting in front of the fireplace with a five hundred page book at my feet cross-legged on the sofa while the night view from outside the window. I've finished fifteen chapters of a classic themed book with erotic elements, and I'm already immersed in it. I even imagined myself in certain chapters. And now... I'm bored and worried at the same time.

I finally said, staring at her with every inch of annoyance in me. “How many hours are we going to take to read these books; it will take an eternity,” I growled, staring at how many books were right in front of me. “They are 50 books in total with 400 pages each. It will take us through the night if we read each book at a speed of 13 minutes. “You are crazy, Clara,” I said almost immediately while glaring at her. I mean, that's not even achievable, “that goal isn't realistic,” I finally voiced out while staring at her.

She only had an hour and thirty minutes left. Not a minute added. ..... A/N : What do you think guys? Have you finally gotten an answer to the rhetorical question in the introductory chapter of this book? Awaiting your reply... Thanks...

Yeah—I thought he was disgusting. Mark just stood there, empty-eyed, then walked away. He never came back. And I never wanted him to. While I was overseas, I dropped papers in top journals, picked up honors I never even dared to dream about. Made it to the world stage. Proved I was enough. No handouts. No shortcuts. Just me, grinding my way up. After graduation, one of the top schools in Carmoria hired me as a professor. Before heading back, I took time to travel. Hit up dozens of countries, saw things that'll stay with me forever—until one day in Ria de Janero, Fiona called.

And oh, I had no idea how bad my burn is going to be. ************** MONDAY My eyes flickered from the book in my hand to the clock hanging on the wall across from me. I sucked into a deep breath of air and turned my attention back to my book. Three hours later and I repeated the same exact action, noticing that the time has only increased three freaking minutes.

At this point, there is no need to argue. “12 hours.” This man is nuts. “12 hours? Do you think the information is going to be handed to me?” “Watch it.” That cold stare again. “Figure it out, but you are not exceeding 12 hours outside.” “And what do I tell them? Why am I back?” “Am I supposed to spoon-feed you every piece of information? They wouldn’t care enough to verify whatever you tell them.” Yep. They wouldn’t. “And after 12 hours, what happens?” I could leave, reach out to Raven, and never come back.

I have two more chapters of my book to go. I finish those chapters in thirty minutes and I put down the book. I am not feeling sleepy, so I pick my phone up, put in my air pods and check for a movie to watch. I have less than four hours till dinner, so I pick the Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead man’s chest movie and I settle down to watch it.

Tired, recovering, carrying too much, having breakfast. "Tell me something true," I said. "Not about the conspiracy. Not about Crane or Eleanor or the compound." I looked at him. "Something about you specifically." He considered this with the same attention he gave everything. Not deflecting — actually considering. "I read the same four books for six months," he said. "The ones Thomas could bring me without raising questions. He'd leave them on the medical cart, mixed in with the approved materials." He looked at his coffee. "I have large sections of all four memorized at this point. Not deliberately. Repetition."

“How many hours do you train every day?” Ryan leaned against his stick. “It depends.” “On what?” “The season.” He thought for a moment.“Before championships, usually five or six hours.” I tried to sound casual. “Every day?” “Almost.” I nodded slowly. Five or six hours. The number burned itself into my memory before I could stop it. I hated myself for remembering. Ryan noticed the thoughtful look on my face. “What?” I quickly shook my head.“Nothing.” He smiled. “You’ve become very curious today.”