I’ll Always Be With You by Monica Murphy EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Authors: Monica Murphy
- Language: English
- Genre: Coming of Age Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
MID-JULY IN PARIS is when I first saw her in the flesh—it was hot as balls,
thanks to the heatwave that swept over most of Europe. Everyone was
sweating on the crowded dance floor at this random nightclub, with the
exception of one.
I knew who she was. Of course, I did. Her last name is on practically
every building at the private school I attend back home, though she doesn’t
even go there. Then there’s the fact that her family moves within the same
social circles as mine, not that she’s ever around. She’s lived outside of the
U.S. for years.
It was almost as if she didn’t exist. She’s more a myth or an apparition:
much discussed, yet never seen.
She’s a principal dancer at the London Dance Company, or some such
shit. A prima ballerina at an extraordinarily young age—or so the media
says. What she’s doing in Paris, I don’t know. But she’s sexy as fuck out
there twirling on the dance floor, moving to the music. Clad in a pair of
skimpy black shorts that show off her long, long legs and the tiniest tank
top I’ve ever seen.
White. Cropped. See-through. Hard nipples poking against the thin
fabric. She dances effortlessly. Without thought and total abandon. Her
slender arms wave above her head, her lips curved into a dreamy smile,
eyes unfocused as if she’s in a trance. She’s not very tall, but her legs are
endless. She’s fascinating. Everyone is watching her.
She doesn’t even notice.
Staring at her for so long, I find myself licking my lips like I’m fucking
starving. For her. It’s like I can’t take my eyes off of her. My skin feels
electrified just watching her, so without thinking, I take a step forward.
Then another. Until I’m out on the dance floor, surrounded by writhing
bodies, not moving a muscle, yet sweating profusely while she completely
ignores me as I stand just to the side of her.
She sees me, though. I can tell by the way her gaze flicks in my direction,
quick as lightning, a flash of interest before she turns her back to me.
Pretending I’m not there.
No one pretends I don’t exist. Most people—especially girls—can’t
ignore me. I sound like an asshole, but I’m just stating facts. Everyone
knows my family. My last name.
The song ends, the DJ announcing the next song in French, and I take my
She whirls around at the sound of my voice, and I blink at her,
mesmerized by her stunning face. The perfect symmetry of her features.
Blue eyes, elegant nose, rose pink lips formed into a pout. Her expression
flips to bored in an instant, and she says something in French as her gaze
roams over me from head to toe.
I tilt my head, frowning. “What was that?”
She laughs, and I can’t help but smile, even though I’m positive she’s
laughing at me.
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