Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 79183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
And try not to lust like some awkward loser while she takes a sip of her water and stares at the roll in front of her.
Her hands shake when she grabs it, and slowly, effortlessly, she puts butter on it, and I wonder when the last time any of the girls in my school ever put butter on bread—purposefully.
I smile at her and hope it doesn’t look mocking.
My dad starts talking about work, Mom gets her second glass of wine, and we eat in somewhat weird silence as they ask Belle questions about her life before she went into the system.
I am truly not prepared to hear her story and almost want to tune it out when she starts talking about her mom’s death years ago.
A single mom.
A never-present dad.
And then I look around the table and wonder if I really haven’t been a total shit when it comes to my life just because I hate faking it for the media.
I sigh, my appetite suddenly gone.
“You should eat more,” Dad says. “Don’t you have that big scrimmage against Capital next week?”
“Yeah.” I painfully chew the steak on my plate and then take a sip of wine to wash it down. “Should be a rough one.”
“What do you play?” Belle asks as if she’s interested, and I can even tell in her tone she kind of is.
“Lacrosse,” I say.
“Captain,” Mom adds. “Of the entire team.”
“I’m not surprised.” Belle reaches for another roll, then pulls her hand back like she’s not allowed to eat, and something in my chest cracks in half as I scoot the plate closer to her and nod.
Tears shimmer in her eyes, and I hate myself all over again for having a shit attitude and not being the nicest to her at first because I was all up in my own head, not hers.
She had a fucking trash bag for her belongings.
That was it.
Fuck.
“Eat,” I say. “There’s a lot of food, and you don’t want it to go to waste.”
She gulps and then grabs another roll, and nods her head at me.
It’s cute, the way her cheeks turn a slight pink color.
I suddenly want to eat something very different, and I wonder if my appetite would be sated or just set on fire by the taste.
I clear my throat. “May we be excused?”
Dad tosses his napkin. “Any homework?”
“Not that I know of. Got pulled out of school right after lunch, but I’ll check online and try to get Belle updated on what classes she’ll be taking if her name and registration number is there.”
“Good man.” Dad winks. “Thanks.”
“Well, you did give me a car…” I joke.
He laughs with me, and even Belle and Mom smile.
I suddenly walk away from dinner feeling a bit more light-hearted than I did this morning and this afternoon.
Maybe I should be trying harder and not trying to make everything about me.
Belle follows me up the stairs and into the theater room; still in the dress, I can’t stop staring at it, wondering how the hell Hailey would have ever looked even a quarter as good in it.
Maybe I bought it for the right person all along—maybe it was just bad timing.
I quickly turn on something random and realize it’s the last Star Trek movie I’d been watching on repeat. I can’t remember the name of it, but clearly, Belle does because she does a little gasp and then admits. “My only dream is to go to comic con.”
She covers her mouth and shakes her head.
I actually laugh out loud. “Ah, closet nerd. Nice.”
“Yeah, hanging out with the lacrosse captain… nice.”
“Deserved that.” I admit hanging my head.
“Yup.” She leans against the leather couch, and I fight not to stare down the front of her dress like a creeper. “So, what kind of fresh hell am I going to be put through tomorrow?”
“Oh, well…” I walk over to the mini bar. “That’s gonna take a quick drink.”
“Underage drinking post wine at dinner, how very rebellious of you.”
“Yes, I’m so rebellious. I wear a tie to school every day, joined every club in existence, including fencing, and have to be the student body president my Senior year while everyone else is out living their lives… soooo rebellious, one shot of whiskey.”
I quickly make her one and clink our glasses together.
We both take it.
And then it’s quiet, the movie is in the background, and for the first time in my life, I don’t want to burn down my school or my house. I want to drive her tomorrow in that car. I want to show her off. I want her to smile more and more and more. Maybe it’s a penance from my own guilty conscience.
“So classes…” I grab my phone and then frown. “You’re basically in all of mine, so no problem.”
“How do you know?” She frowns. “You don’t know my last name or—“