Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“No.”
“Wonders will never cease.” He’s busily slipping on his shoes and tying the laces. “I think we should give being friends a chance.”
“Really?”
He nods.
“I’d like that.” Like would be an understatement. “Very much.”
He looks up and says, “What’s that look on your face?”
“I don’t know, good sir. What look is on my face?”
“Sort of pleased crossed with confused. Though you might just have gas. It’s hard to say.”
I groan and stretch. “Ha.”
“Well?”
There’s a small chance I lay awake until one in the morning constructing an overly long speech to woo him back. It was quite good. There was a heavy focus on the joy I could bring to his life, such as my penchant for witty dialogue, excellent taste in reading materials, and access to my mother’s chocolate chip cookies. A shame it won’t be needed.
“Not to sound needy or insecure, but when it comes to you, I do occasionally have a ‘Why me?’ moment. I mean, you’re who you are and I am me.”
He frowns. “Why not you?”
“I don’t know.” I sit up cross-legged on the bed and tie back my hair. Which has to be resembling a bird’s nest right about now. Coffee is required. Stat. “Because I’m not one of the beautiful people. Whoever the hell they are.”
He scoffs.
“I’m being serious.”
“I could ask you ‘Why me?’ since you have no interest in the fame or infamy or any of that other shit.” He stands and glances at the watch on his wrist. It’s probably platinum. “I can only assume it’s my charming personality. Right. I have to get a move on. Hopefully you’ll be able to go home today. The paparazzi just need their attention diverted to something new. Save Thursday afternoon for me. I have an idea for your list.”
“You do?”
He picks up his suit jacket and heads for the door. “Yes.”
Then he’s gone, leaving me with a wealth of warm, fuzzy feelings. Just a whole heaping lot of them. My cheeks hurt from being happy, and my brain is operating way beyond a safe speed. So many thoughts and emotions. I see to the essentials in the bathroom and wash my hands. Brush my teeth and hair and so on.
A lot has happened. There’s much to overthink. His morning wood is best ignored. I doubt I’ll ever encounter his hard-on again. Metaphorically speaking, we were just two ships passing in the night. Same goes for him saying I was soft and smelled good. He was being kind or something. Alistair and I are just friends. Emphasis on the just. But there’s a definite fun edge of flirt to our friendship. I am not imagining it. Not even a little.
Time to order breakfast and caffeine. While waiting for my buttermilk pancakes with strawberries to arrive, a bad thing occurs to me. Our return to friendship status increases the likelihood of me dying on Sunday. I can’t discount the way the other predictions came true. Though having lived with a due date for my death for a while now, the threat doesn’t seem as sharp. It’s more of a nagging ongoing anxiety causing concern. And if it is true, if I am doomed to die, there isn’t anything I can do to assuage the situation. Or is there?
* * *
“I was expecting you days ago,” Good Witch Willow greets me.
“You say things like that, and it makes me wonder how precise your predictions really are.” I take a seat on a nearby bench. Thanks to social media, it wasn’t hard to track her down. We’re in a community garden located off Hollywood Boulevard. “I didn’t even know this place existed.” LA is a big-ass city. It’s good to see some green amongst the concrete. All sorts of people are working in the garden. Young and old and everything in between.
“It’s been here since before you were born. You should pay better attention.” She kneels in a garden bed full of leafy greens, tomatoes, and cucumbers. Bushes of parsley, basil, and dill grow nearby, scenting the air. Her braid of silver hair hangs down her back as she digs with a small spade. “How are things with your boyfriend?”
“He was cheating.”
“And your job?”
“They passed me over for promotion.”
She sits back on her heels. “I don’t suppose you happened to catch the lotto numbers?”
“I won a quarter of a million.”
“Couldn’t you remember all of them?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Shame” is all she says, and goes back to digging.
“I have some questions.”
“What a surprise.”
I slide my sunglasses to the top of my head. The sun is warm, and it is a beautiful day. A dragonfly lands near my hand, its body a shimmering metallic green in the sunlight. It’s like everyday magic. Fall was always my favorite season. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe it should be spring. Those cooler days before boob-sweat season kicks in. “If you can see these things, why don’t you use them for yourself?”