Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
For one thing, I had no parents. The other girls smelled that weakness from miles away. Saw that I never strayed too far from campus, always staying during vacations and breaks while they chartered private jets to luxurious condos to spend time with family. My parents barely took my calls, and when they did, they used the sixty or so seconds to berate me for reaching out to our extended family members.
“You have to stop pestering my sisters,” my mother would scoff. “You’re wasting your breath. I’ve told you a thousand times,
I am not in contact with any of them. They’re too jealous of our wealth and success.”
Didn’t matter. No one ever answered my calls. Eventually, I stopped trying.
My classmates made nicknames for me. Nerdiac, bookworm, weirdo, loner, and the one that stuck – Crier Rose, thanks to the time I got caught bawling my eyes out in a bathroom stall after my parents forgot my birthday. They managed to turn the things I took pride in – my intellect, my introversion, my sensitivity – into insults.
For another, I decided to throw myself into studying. If I didn’t have any family or friends, at least I’d have a bright future. I’d lie in bed imagining the life I’d have when I move to America. The friends, the dorms, the parties, the spring breaks.
I would make up for lost time. I’d create my own bubble of people who cared about me.
This will all be a distant memory.
Though I knew, deep inside, that trauma leaves permanent marks. Distance just lets us see how far we’ve come.
“Of course I didn’t fall for anyone else.” I popped a lollipop into my mouth, swirling my tongue against the pink sucker. My lips were swollen and probably cherry-red from the candy, and I knew he wouldn’t resist a real kiss. “Did you fall for anyone else?”
“Nope.” He grabbed my hand, peppering it with fluffy, feathery, deliriously happy kisses. His warm breath skated over my fingers, his lips grazing my open palm and knuckles. “I don’t think you understand. I’m so next-level obsessed with you that I don’t even tell my friends about you. I’m such a goner that the idea of other boys knowing about you makes me sick with jealousy. The other day, Romeo saw a picture of you on my screensaver and asked who you were, and I flat-out punched him.”
“Hmm.” I reached to kiss his lips. “Toxic masculinity, my favorite flavor in boys.”
I licked my lips, and he laughed into our kiss, trying to capture the tip of my tongue with his teeth.
“Boys?” he growled. “Plural?”
“Just the one. You.”
“Crap.” He sighed. “This is bad.”
He kissed my cheek. The tip of my nose. The edge of my lashes.
“What’s bad?”
“How entangled you are in my soul. It’s like … a hair ball. I can’t unravel it.”
“So poetic.” I snorted. “John Keats has nothing on you.”
“Don’t think about other men when you’re with me.”
“Ollie, John Keats has been dead for over two hundred years.”
He turned to kiss my bare shoulder. “Still not dead enough for me.”
My spaghetti strap pulled down to my elbow, the curve of my breast popping through the hem of the fabric. When he was here, I lived life to its fullest. Suddenly, I appreciated everything. The scent of flowers blossoming and sweet water running. The sound of birds chirping and the laughter of complete strangers as they, too, made happy memories.
“Are we looking at clouds?” he murmured into my temple.
“We are.”
I weaved my fingers in his, and it felt so natural, so right, like we’d spent no time apart at all.
I studied the sky. “I see a bunny.”
He pointed at a cloud across my left shoulder. “A massive penis.”
“Ollie.” I slapped a hand over my mouth, trying not to cackle.
“C’mon, you’re laughing because you know it’s true. It has a crown more royal than Prince Edward.”
“Now I’m going to punch you.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time. Every time you touch me is a call for celebration.”
I stretched across the manicured lawn. A ladybug landed on the tip of my fingernail, and I let it explore. Oliver placed his chin on my shoulder. We both watched it, silent.
“How’s the sky?” He traced the path the ladybug took up my wrist, referencing what I’d said the night of our first kiss. Since then, he often asked this. “Still falling?”
“Not when you’re around.”
“Told you I’d hold it up.” His grin tickled my shoulder. “I was thinking …”
I scrunched my nose. “Thinking or fantasizing?”
“Both. Always both when it comes to you.” He captured my hand, interlacing our fingers after the ladybug flew away. “Our parents see each other every day and their summer houses are across from one another. Why don’t you come stay with us for the summer? You can take the pool house.”
I swallowed hard. Any other girl would tell her boyfriend that her parents would never let her spend an entire summer with a horny teenage boy, but in my case, I thought my parents would be relieved if I suggested it.