Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 92070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
He nods, accepting the answer without a hint of the typical male aggression I expect. There are hints of jealousy in his expression, but there's no hostility to it.
He's a well-adjusted, sweet, non-threatening guy.
He isn't a terrible choice for this. He's a great choice, actually.
Safe.
That's what she needs.
"How did you and Val meet?" He makes perfectly pleasant small talk in a friendly-enough tone.
I play along. "My dad moved in next door when I was in middle school."
"What was she like then?"
My lips curl into a smile. Val in middle school? Now, that was fun. "A dork. She had braces and these super-thick glasses."
He smiles at the mental image. "She looks cute in her glasses."
"She looks hot in her glasses." Why the fuck did I say that? I bite my tongue, so I don't say anything else I need to take back.
He looks at me funny, like he's not sure if I'm staking a claim or not.
Shit. "Don't you think?"
"They suit her."
"They suited her at thirteen too. Even more, maybe. She rocked bright red frames. They screamed nerd." And they brought out the flecks of honey in her eyes. And announced her boldness and love of color to the entire world.
He smiles at the thought of nerdy teenage Val. "You have any pictures?"
"I could find some—" Okay, wingman duties, here goes. I don't have to like it. I just have to do it—"If you come out with us."
"Bribing me?"
I nod. "And this is well worth it. You'll see what bands she secretly loved in high school."
He laughs and sips his coffee. "What about you? What did you love in high school?"
"Girls."
"Musically?" he asks.
"Anything that wasn't nu-metal." When he looks at me funny, I explain. "My brother's favorite. You?"
He names a dozen artists I've never heard of. And Fiest. "It's funny how women in the music industry are always gorgeous," he says. "It's not a fair world."
That's true. And it's the kind of observation Val appreciates. Maybe he's more than a safe fuck. Maybe he's a decent guy for her. I swallow the thought and return to small talk.
"Are you a musician?"
"I'm in a jazz band, but I haven't had time in a while. Pre-med courses were brutal. Then I went right into working at a lab."
"How did you and Val end up living together?"
"Stroke of luck, I guess. She knew Zelda from a class. And, uh, Zelda and I used to date."
I know her side of the story, but I want to hear his. I pretend I don't have a clue. "Oh?"
"Yeah. Last semester," he says. "We broke up but we didn't want to find a new place, so we split the space."
"The two of you were staying in a three bedroom?" I ask.
"My parents are generous with their help," he says.
"That's lucky," I say.
"Yeah, and we were lucky to find Val. She's a great roommate." His voice is honest, sincere. He likes her, as a roommate and friend, at the very least.
"Besides the movies in the living room?"
He laughs. "She does go late, sometimes, but I'll take that over nonstop parties."
"Or loud sex." I test the subject.
He doesn't bite. "She ever bring anyone home?" Why am I asking? I trust her. And this is too aggressive for Bermuda Shorts.
"Not that I've noticed.” He looks me in the eyes, man to man, no aggression, no hostility, just a single question. "Is that because you two…"
Yeah, she's been in love with me all this time. "We've only kissed once." I swallow hard and force myself to explain. "Back in high school. 'Cause she wanted to practice before she kissed her boyfriend for the first time."
Archie lets out a nervous laugh and looks to the bathroom door. "Do you mind if I call you Darren?"
"It's my name."
"Val talks about you a lot," he says.
That's not a question, but I know what he means. I used to hear it often. Val talks about you all the time. Are you sure you're just friends?
"It's really not my place," he says. "But I know you two are leaving for Paris soon. And she probably told you I'm leaving soon."
"About a week, right?"
"Four days," he says.
"Pretty soon."
"I might not get another chance to say it." He clears his throat. "If it's out of line, forgive me. I just want the best for Valeria."
"Me too."
He nods with familiarity. "She really cares about you."
There's something odd about his tone, something I can't explain. But there's really only one way to respond. "I care about her too."
"She's worried she's going to disappoint you."
What? Why would Val ever worry about that? As long as she tries, she'll never disappoint me. She's the smartest, most capable, most badass person I know. "She could never," I say.
"If the program is too hard. Or she decides she wants to do something easier."
"Has she mentioned that possibility?" I ask.