Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 54383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
I don’t argue with him at all.
9
ME
The windshield wipers fight the rain as Easton speeds down the street.
His hand is resting on my left thigh, and I’m trying to think of something—anything, to talk about, but words are eluding me.
The weather serves as our soundtrack for most of the ride, and when we arrive at Gayle’s, the drive-through line snakes around the block.
This place just opened this year, and it’s been the talk of the town ever since. If you’re lucky, the wait is supposedly only half an hour, and it seems we don’t fall into that category tonight.
“You want me to go inside instead of waiting in this line?” he asks.
“We’ll get soaked.”
“That’s why I just volunteered to go in by myself.” He looks over at me, the dimples in his cheeks deepening. “You can sit in here.”
“I don’t think so.” I unbuckle my seatbelt. “I’m going, too.”
He lets out a low laugh and parks in the front row.
Reaching into the backseat, he grabs his varsity hoodie and hands it to me.
I pull it on and he rushes over to my side of the car. He pulls me against his side and the rain attacks us as we reach toward the entrance.
Inside, the decor is like a diner from the fifties.
He leads me to a booth in the back. Within seconds, a waitress rolls over on skates with menus and a tray.
“Since we’re slammed at the drive-thru, here are a few samples you can try,” she says. “I’ll be back with you in a few minutes.”
“Thank you,” we say in unison.
Easton wraps an arm around my shoulder and my heart races at the contact.
“We’re in public,” I say.
“I’m aware.” He uses his free arm to scoop vanilla onto a spoon. “Want to try this one?”
I blush as he places it against my lips.
We try the flavors one by one, and I have to hold back from saying, “Oh my fucking god” after every bite.
“What the hell are they putting in this?” Easton asks.
“I’m pretty sure it’s crack.”
I laugh and claim the peach flavor for myself. As I’m mid-bite, a large group of people rush in, cursing and yelling at the rain.
Taking off their hoodies, I realize they’re Easton’s teammates.
I move from under his arm and scoot away, but he grabs my thigh and pulls me back.
“Easton!” His second-closest friend Shaw walks over and slaps his shoulder. “I see you raced like a bat out of hell from the beach.”
He smiles and looks at me. “Tully, you look a little different today.”
“Because I’m Scarlett.”
“Oh.” He smiles wider. “Well, I’m sure Easton has told you all about me, right?”
“Not really.”
“Well, allow me to fill you in.” He plops down in the seat across from us while the other teammates take the tables near the windows.
“I’m the best guy you’ll ever go out with and I can give you multiple nights to remember.” Shaw continues. “What does that sound like?”
“I told you that she’s seeing someone.” Easton speaks for me, squeezing my thigh under the table.
“Yeah, well, he’s not here and that’s a shame.” Shaw feigns a frown. “If you were mine, I’d never let you out of my sight.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say.
“You should.” He stands up and winks at me. “I’ll let you two get back to your conversation. Come stop by my table once you’re finished, though.”
“I will,” Easton says.
“Not you.” Shaw scoffs. “Scarlett.”
He walks away and I look at Easton.
“None of your teammates know?”
“No.”
Before I say anything else, my phone sounds with a call. My mother.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, standing. “Give me five minutes.”
When I make it into the restroom, I let my mother’s call go to voicemail and splash my face with cold water. Taking several deep breaths, I stare at my reflection.
Assuming that Shaw thought I was Tully because of my hair, I yank it out of the messy topknot and let it fall to my shoulder in waves. I pull a grey scarf from my bag and wrap it around my head.
Much better.
I smile and return my mother’s call.
“Hey Scarlett,” she answers. “Please tell me you’re someplace safe in the middle of this crazy storm.”
“I’m at Gayle’s,” I say. “I’ll be back soon.”
“No rush. Bring me one of their truffle waffle hearts if they have some left!” She sounds like a schoolgirl. “I can’t be the last person to try their stuff.”
“Will do, Mom.”
“Oh, and I was also calling because guess what?”
“You’ve changed your mind about making me go dress shopping in Nashville.”
“That’s not happening. Your sister’s ‘How I made homecoming lollipops’ post from Tuesday just reached four million views!”
“Yay.”
“It’s still climbing and getting like twenty thousand new ones every minute! So, I’m thinking…”
I set down my phone on the sink while she continues, uncapping my eyeliner and making the wing darker. Another un-Tully trait.