Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
I loved lasagna. How dare he? “NO!” I roared. My parents were half-Italian, but again, not the point. “Just apologize, and this weird war can end. I’m only here for a few months before I start work anyway.”
“Ah, work. Do you know the meaning, or is it just like this thing you think about at night when you get spoon-fed meals by a chef and count the money in your bank account?”
If there were any witnesses, they’d probably say that I growled at his response instead of in my head, but I took a deep breath and said, “Fine. Fine. Say what you will, but this is over. That was a low blow. And you saw my crowns before. You knew it was a thing.”
He suddenly frowned. “What? What thing?”
“Great-Grandma!” I spat.
He kept that stupid look of confusion on his face, which left me no choice but to grab the hose next to his foot and aim it at him. “Don’t make me.”
“Wet?” He shook his head. “Look, it was a total joke because you’re a little princess. I thought you’d laugh, not attack me with water and a Garfield slipper. Come on, you gave me glitter. Tit for tat. We should be even.”
I never understood the concept of seething, but I felt it. I felt it in that moment as my fingers clutched the nozzle of the hose. “Apologize.”
“Did we just go from Garfield to Venom? I’m confused.”
“Huh?”
“Apologize,” he yelled, spreading his buff arms wide as he stood by the lawnmower. The cut grass smelled so fresh that morning that I hated him even more because I automatically felt better about life. “Apologize. You know, how like in the Venom movie, he keeps yelling because Eddie keeps offending him and…” He stopped talking. “Not a fan of movies, or?”
“Aghhhh.” I dropped the slipper to the ground and shoved it on. “Give me my other Garfield and I’ll leave. But know this isn’t over. You know what you did.”
He smirked, the corner of his mouth tilting up to the right as he leaned down and grabbed the cartoon cat. Then, as if in slow motion, he walked over to me and knelt. “Up.”
“Huh?”
“Your foot. I mean, it’s technically a slipper…” He held out one-eyed Garfield like it was a prize. “Right?”
I lifted my foot. He slowly slipped the fluffy thing on and stood.
“I’m still angry.”
He tilted his head, then with shaking fingers, reached for my chin and held it between his fingertips. For whatever reason, I didn’t pull away. “Sometimes, we need to be angry first in order to be happy. So, let yourself be angry. I was just kidding, but if it got this reaction out of you where I get to see a face mask, Garfield, and whatever the hell you’re wearing, I might just do it more.”
“Don’t.”
“Will.” He nodded. “Now, go back and shower. You have mascara streaks down your face. God, did you even wash up before bed last night? Also, mirrors, they exist, use them.”
He was teasing, I knew it, but I was too hurt and raw to see it. “I loathe you. Just wait.”
“Aw, princess. With bated breath.”
He turned and started the lawnmower while I stood there like an idiot. As I stomped back to the house looking like a nightmare, a small smile formed on my lips.
He wanted to play?
Well, games could be hazardous, and I would not be outdone by lawnmower boy.
Let’s. Go.
Chapter Five
“When Garfield becomes your Iron Man.”—Hazel Titus
August
Was it wrong to be excited after seeing a sad, pathetic Garfield slipper and a half-asleep girl yelling at me?
Probably.
Maybe that meant you’d hit rock bottom. Regardless, I was literally smiling all morning when I went into the living room and saw Mom sleeping on the couch. I grabbed the red and blue quilt, pulled it up to her neck, and kissed her forehead—just to make sure.
God, it sucked to even think that.
To make sure.
What? That she wasn’t cold?
My good mood left until I looked back at the lawn.
“Mmmm.” Mom stirred. “You talked with Hazel this morning. Were you yelling?”
I smirked. “Pretty sure she did all the yelling, Mom.”
Her laugh had always been one of my favorite things about her. It was always too loud, boisterous to the point that when we went to the movies, people stared at her, and I would sink into the seat like I was a part of it. But now? I wished it was like that again and didn’t sound so weak and frail.
“August.” Her lips pressed together like she was gaining energy from not speaking before she opened her mouth again. “Yelling doesn’t always mean fighting. If you evoked a response in her, maybe that’s a good thing. God knows I would do anything in this world to see you happy and with someone before…”
“No.” I rushed to her side. “Before what? Aliens come? Zombies? Before In-N-Out takes notice? Nope, not happening. Just relax, you’re tired. I’ll deal with her. It’s just some friendly, um…banter.”