Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104252 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104252 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
“God, if this is all you, I’m going to trust you to fix this,” I murmur as I delete the text I was about to send Cam.
I blow out a breath and turn to head out. I can use a good laugh with a friend. Cam is just what the doctor ordered.
I’ll see this movie with Taylor and then I will meet up with my friend. This will be a good night. Dez isn’t here now. He can’t dictate my every move.
“Assholes.”
My father is going to hear from me. I also owe my mother a huge apology. I hope she can forgive me.
“Stupid girl,” I breathe as I walk out of my room.
Man, I feel so dumb.
Cameron
I lift my big toe and turn my foot on its side like that’s going to help me decide on which pair of shoes to wear. I can’t make up my mind. I pucker my lips and start to pop them as if that will miraculously give me some answers other than what I would look like as a fish.
Glancing at the mirror, I wonder if I’m going too casual. We’re just hanging out and getting something to eat. The light-blue distressed jeans with the tears in the knee and thighs seemed safe when I first put them on. So did the plain white T-shirt.
Now I’m second-guessing everything. I haven’t even put my socks on yet. I think to start all over but roll my eyes as my phone rings, breaking through my musings.
Ignoring it, I grab my cowboy boots and hold them up. A frown comes to my face. These are cool, but not for a date with Amina.
“This is not a date,” I chide myself.
It’s not, but I don’t want to come off as some big country-ass dude when she probably has guys back home who have tons of swag. I drop the cowboy boots. It’s now between my sneakers and my flat lace-up boots. The boots do give the rest of the outfit a vibe.
“Go with the boots,” I mutter.
They will dress up the outfit a little and make it a little less casual looking. I snap my fingers as I think about the fact that we’re going bowling. Remembering that I have a similar pair of black boots with faux laces and a side zipper, I head to the closet to dig them out.
Once I get my socks and boots on, I have time to check my messages. My mama has called, demanding I call her back. I snort and chuck the phone.
She only wants one of two things, to get me to talk to Kay or to annoy me about something else. I’m not in the mood for either. Kay wanted to take a break, so we’re taking a break.
Right now, I just want to be left alone. I don’t have anyone nagging me and I haven’t been stressed out. I smile and laugh more than I have in a long time.
“Cam, you want something to eat?” Caleb calls through the apartment.
I walk out of my room to find him in the kitchen at the stove. This guy can cook his ass off. If he ever decided ball wasn’t for him, he could cook for a living.
“Nah, but you can make me some for later,” I say as I sit at the island.
He turns to look at me. “You’re going out?”
“Yeah, not for long, just a few hours. You cool with that?”
“Yeah, not like I need a babysitter.”
I lift a brow and chuckle when he gives me a smile. I nod and toss a napkin from the countertop at him. He’s getting better at joking around more.
“Don’t get your ass kicked.”
“Are we going to that kickback? The one the team invited us to?”
“Do you think you’re ready for that? I mean, I’m down if you want to go, but are you ready to try?”
He purses his lips and squints. I give him time to gather his thoughts and feelings. I never like to assume I know what he’s feeling or to rush him through his thought process.
Patience is key with Caleb. You get more from him when you allow him to take his time. Parties are harder. However, my mama won’t be involved with this one and I think that’s a positive thing for my brother to be able to relax and cope.
“I want to try. The guys invited me. It’s not like I’m trying to tag along with you. That felt good. To be seen and invited.
“I might not like it once we get there, but at least I can know my limits early on and say I’ve had the experience,” he says, shaking his hands out at his sides.
“Well, we have two weeks to work on things like that,” I say, pointing to the handshaking.
Over the years we’ve worked on his different tics and stims. Not because I thought he needed to change for anyone, but because our mama would get so mad when he couldn’t stop whatever it was she deemed as weird or inappropriate.