Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 129110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“You can’t just stay out all night!” He accuses. “Did you hook up with anyone?”
I guess it takes a person of a certain character to ask that insead of saying, I'm sorry for insulting your appearance before you left.
I roll my eyes and let out a pathetic laugh, my mind screaming.
Maybe if you were nicer I would have come home.
God this is so fucked up.
It's over.
I should just say it. I want to shout it. Get right to the point. I think I'm going to. It's on the tip of my tongue when my heart starts pounding.
Wait.
Oh my god.
Did I do something with Asher?
I was so drunk I can't remember.
I think back to last night for the umpteenth time. I recall the intimate dancing. How as the night went on the flirting turned from easy-going to almost carnal. Filthy. Words I've never said before. Things I liked saying. And hearing. The details and specifics are obscure.
I swallow hard.
I think about telling him who I was with, but then I remember that I can't.
The words are on the tip of my tongue.
I went out with Asher Montgomery last night. To which Travis ultimately responds, maybe in your dreams, before insisting I return to Earth and make him a sandwhich or something.
But I did. I was with Asher, and I wasn't dreaming.
He made me feel special.
Oh god.
All the things he's ever said to me. Everything that has happened. It all flashes before me as I finally piece it together... oh god... OH... and when I take my fears and hesitations out of it, and as impossible as it may seem, I think Asher Montgomery likes me too.
Then there's him. I look up.
Travis.
I can't focus. I feel the vomit curdling in my stomach, my stare icy and cold.
"Your comment about my dress really hurt my feelings.”
"Then stop being so sensative."
"Don’t you think there’s a reason you didn’t want to come out last night? Or that you didn’t think I looked pretty? Do you even still like me?"
Asher does.
I'm sorry. I said I wouldn't, but you’re beautiful.
“Look, I'm sorry about what I said. I thought you would have wanted to know how you looked.” Travis hesitates as a dark light looms over him. “You always look great though, you know that. I worked all day. I was just tired.”
“I worked too! I get tired all the time, but I’m never outright rude or mean to you!” I plop down and he does too, sliding his laptop over so I can’t see the screen.
I don’t make a fuss about it. My life without Travis will go on. I’ll survive. I'll move on, even if it's not with Asher Montgomery.
"I can't do this," I stand. "I can't be in this."
“What are you going now?”
“Brunch at my parents, remember?”
“Right,” he scrunches his eyes. I can tell he's nervous I may ask him to go.
I roll mine as I head out of the room.
"Can we talk about this later?"
I laugh, rushing between the bedroom and bathroom to change and get ready. If he truly cared he would come. Not that I want him to, because I definitely don't.
"There's not much to say, but sure. We can work out the details later."
Like how much I'll owe for the rest of this month's rent, and who will keep the fish.
An hour and a half later I unlock the front door to my childhood home. The house is quiet, and given that I’m late I bet they started without me.
I toss my keys on the side table and make my way through the living room to the kitchen. I’m about to head out the back door when Mom pops up from behind a cabinet.
It scares the crap out of the both of us.
I don’t know if it’s my hangover or increased anxiety, but I’m extra jumpy.
She stands and places her palms on the island as we both catch our breath. Then she walks over.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” she hugs, looking towards the hallway. “Here alone?”
"Yeah."
I wait for her to ask why I'm late.
She doesn't.
Instead she opens the fridge and pours me a glass of juice.
I take it from her as she looks me over. Now I’m nervous she’s going to accuse me of being hungover. She sometimes does even when I’m not so I wait for it now that I actually am.
She senses it.
I do too.
I make a face. Her eyes scrunch in a disapproving way. Then her mouth starts to open.
Here we go.
I definitely am not in the mood. I mumble, thanks for the juice, and rush outside.
As I step onto the back deck the sun blinds me.
Dad is on the grill. He raises his spatula as some sort of greeting. Ben is under the large umbrella at the table on his laptop. I rustle his hair as I pull up a chair. Then I throw on my sunglasses and lean back. He starts going on about some show he’s watching. I scoot my chair over and try to stay interested, but my eyes grow too heavy.