Click here to Download November 9 PDF Book by Colleen Hoover Language English having PDF Size 2 MB and No of Pages 302.
I begrudgingly slide out of the booth. He tries to hand me his phone for the picture, but I hold up my hand in protest and proceed to walk around him. “I need to use the restroom,” I mutter, walking away from the booth. “Just take a selfie with him. He loves selfies.” I rush toward the restroom to find a moment of reprieve from my father. I don’t know why I asked him to meet me today.
November 9 PDF Book by Colleen Hoover
| Name of Book | November 9 |
| PDF Size | 2 MB |
| No of Pages | 302 |
| Language | English |
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It could be because I’m moving and I won’t see him for God knows how long, but that’s not even a good enough excuse to put myself through this. I swing open the door to the first stall. I lock it behind me and pull a protective seat cover out of the dispenser and place it over the toilet seat. I read a study on bacteria in public restrooms once.
The first stall in every bathroom studied was found to have the least amount of bacteria. People assume the first stall is the most utilized, so most people skip over it. Not me. It’s the only one I’ll use. I haven’t always been a germaphobe, but spending two months in the hospital when I was sixteen left me a bit obsessive-compulsive when it comes to hygiene.
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Once I’m finished using the restroom, I take at least a full minute to wash my hands. I stare down at them the entire time, refusing to look in the mirror. Avoiding my reflection becomes easier by the day, but I still catch a glimpse of myself while reaching for a paper towel. No matter how many times I’ve looked in a mirror, I still haven’t grown used to what I see.
I bring my left hand up and touch the scars that run across the left side of my face, over my jaw and down my neck. They disappear beneath the collar of my shirt, but underneath my clothing, the scars run down the entire left side of my torso, stopping just below my waistline. I run my fingers over the areas of skin that now resemble puckered leather.
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Scars that constantly remind me that the fire was real and not just a nightmare I can force myself awake from with a pinch on the arm. He actually looks remorseful, and I contemplate laying off the bitterness and being a little nicer to him. However, before anything nice can come out of my mouth, the guy in the booth behind my father begins to stand up and my attention span is shot to hell.
I try to pull my hair back in front of my face before he turns around, but it’s too late. He’s already staring at me again. The same smile he shot at me earlier is still affixed to his face, but this time I don’t look away from him. In fact, my eyes don’t leave his as he makes his way to our booth. Before I can react, he’s sliding into the seat with me. Holy shit. What is he doing?
“Sorry I’m late, babe,” he says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. He just called me babe. This random dude just put his arm around me and called me babe. What the hell is going on? I glance at my father, thinking he’s in on this somehow, but he’s looking at the stranger next to me with even more confusion than I probably am. November 9 PDF Book
I stiffen beneath the guy’s arm when I feel his lips press against the side of my head. “Damn L.A. traffic,” he mutters. Random Dude just put his lips in my hair. What. Is going. On. The guy reaches across the table for my father’s hand. “I’m Ben,” he says. “Benton James Kessler. Your daughter’s boyfriend.” Your daughter’s . . . what? My father returns the handshake.
I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging open, so I immediately clamp it shut. I don’t want my father to know I have no idea who this guy is. I also don’t want this Benton guy to think my jaw is touching the floor because I like his attention. I’m only looking at him like this because . . . well . . . because he’s obviously a lunatic.
My mother is my hero. My role model. The woman I aspire to be. She did put up with my father for seven years. Any woman who could make it that long deserves a medal of honor. When I was offered the lead role of Gumshoe at the age of fourteen, she hesitated to let me take it. She hated the way my dad’s career had forced him into the limelight. She absolutely hated the man it turned him into. November 9 PDF Book
She said before he became a household name, he was wonderful and charming. But once fame started getting to his head, she couldn’t stand to be around him. She said 1993 was the year that led to the demise of their marriage, the rise to his fame, and the birth of their first and last child: Me. So of course she did everything in her power not to let the same thing happen to me when I started acting.
Imagine transitioning into the cusp of womanhood while being an upand-coming actress in Los Angeles. It’s pretty damn easy to lose sight of yourself. I saw it happen to a lot of my friends. But my mother didn’t allow it to happen to me. As soon as the director called wrap on set each day, I went home to a list of chores and a firm set of rules.
I’m not saying my mother was strict. She just didn’t show me any type of special treatment, no matter how popular I was becoming. She also didn’t allow me to date before I turned sixteen. So in the first few months after my sixteenth birthday, I went on three dates with three different guys. And it was fun. November 9 PDF Book Download
Two of them were coworkers I may or may not have already made out with once or twice in a dressing room on set. One of them was the brother of a friend of mine. And no matter who I went out with or how much fun I did or didn’t have, my mother would have the same conversation with me every time I came home from a date.
About the importance of not falling in love until I’m at an age where I genuinely know myself. She still has the same conversation with me, and I don’t even date. “I could never drive a motorcycle, or fight another man just for fun. And as much as I’ve fantasized about having sex with you this year, I don’t think I could ever say, ‘I own you,’ with a straight face.
And I’ve always wanted a tattoo, but probably just a small one, because no way in hell I could endure the pain. Overall, the books were interesting but they also made me feel highly inadequate.” He can’t be serious. “Ben, not all the guys in the books I read are like that.” He tilts his head. “But you obviously like the bad boys if you like reading about them.” November 9 PDF Book Download
“Actually, that’s not true,” I tell him. “I enjoy reading books like that because it’s not at all the life I lead. It’s completely different than any situation I’ll ever be in, thank God. But I get entertainment out of it. Because as much as I like to read about a guy telling a girl she’s so, so wet for him . . . if anyone ever said that to me during sex, I wouldn’t be turned on by it.
I would be terrified I accidentally peed on myself.” Ben laughs. “And if you and I were having sex and you told me you owned me, I would literally crawl out from under you, put on my clothes, walk out of your house, and go puke in your front yard. So just because I like reading about those kinds of guys, doesn’t mean I need my real-life guys to act like that.”
He pulls me flush against him, my naked chest pressed against his. Okay, it’s a ten now. He turns us around and lowers me to the bed, but doesn’t lie on top of me. He adjusts us to where we’re side by side and my head is on a pillow, but his mouth is still on mine. Quiet, desire-filled sounds begin to leave my mouth, each one of them a direct result of what this kiss is building inside me. November 9 PDF Book Download
I don’t even care that the lamp is still on. If it means he’ll be looking at me again like he looked at me before this kiss, I’ll let him turn all the lights on. I’d even let him install fluorescents. “Fallon,” he says quickly after tearing his mouth from mine. I open my eyes and find him looking down at me. “We’ve read the same books. You know the rules.
If you want me to stop or slow down, just . . .” I shake my head. “It’s perfect, Ben. So perfect. I’ll tell you if there’s something I don’t want to do, or if I get nervous. I promise.” He nods, but it still seems as though there’s something else he wants to say. Or ask. And then I remember that we’ve never really had this discussion. “I’ve never done this, but that doesn’t mean I’m not ready,” I tell him.
I feel his body stiffen, just slightly. “You’re a virgin.” He says it as more of a realization than a question. “Yeah, but only for a few more minutes.” I take a step back and I let go of her. When she climbs into the backseat of the cab, she rolls down her window, but I won’t look at her face. I stare at the ground beneath my feet, waiting to see if it will split in two and swallow me whole. November 9 PDF Book Free
“The one thing I want more than anything is for the whole world to laugh at you, Ben.” I can hear the tears in her voice. “And they can’t do that if I don’t do for you what you did for me the day we met. You let me go. You encouraged me to go. And I want the same for you. I want you to follow your passion instead of your heart.”
The cab begins to back away, and for a split second I think maybe she’ll realize how fucked up her priorities are, because she’s my passion. The book was just an excuse. I debate running after her—giving her a book-worthy performance. I could chase down the cab and when it comes to a stop, I could pull open her door and whisk her into my arms and tell her I’m in love with her.
That I finished falling in love with her almost immediately after I started, because it was a straight plummet from the top to the bottom. A whoosh. An instant. Insta-love. But she hates insta-love. Apparently she hates semiinstant love and slow love and love at a snail’s pace and love in general and . . . “Fuck!” I curse at the empty street, because for once, I get exactly what I deserve. November 9 PDF Book Free
He reaches across the table and places his hand over my wrist, giving it a light squeeze. “I’m nervous, too,” he says reassuringly. His eyes drop to our hands, and then he pulls his back and clears his throat. It’s cute how he’s trying to be respectful in front of Oliver. “Have you ordered yet?” He picks up the menu and stares at it silently for a moment, but I can tell he isn’t reading it.
He’s more nervous than he should be, but we did leave things off in an awkward place last year. I worry that it isn’t nerves plaguing him, but maybe a little bit of bitterness. I know I hurt him last year, but surely he’s had time to understand why I did what I did. And hopefully he knows that walking away from him when he was in so much pain was probably harder on me than it was on him. I’ve spent the entire last year with a heavy heart because it’s constantly on my mind.