Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
I laugh at the memory and save the picture to Felix’s photo album.
And I set the picture as my lock screen before I start typing my response.
hey <3
Switzerland seems fun
Meeting was ok but no snacks
Probably won’t come back to this one and you definitely shouldn’t
Who the fuck doesn’t put out snacks
I’m good
I miss you
I fucking love that picture of you
Tell dean hi or whatever idgaf
Is it cool if I stop by? I have time to kill until my next meeting
I close out of our texts and pull up the information on the other place I’m checking out today, and the only other meeting I’m doing without Felix.
Hopefully it won’t suck like the one currently wrapping up.
Speaking of.
I glance up as closing remarks are given, and as soon as the woman leading this shit show dismisses everyone, I’m out of my seat and out the door.
No fucking snacks? Really?
I get twenty feet from the church, no more than that, when I walk past a guy I spotted on the walk-in.
“Hey, man. What’s up?” he asks, lifting his chin when I approach.
He’s perched against the building like he’s got all fucking day to do that.
He looks relaxed. Casual. With his hands in the pockets of his coat.
“Nothing,” I mumble, and I keep walking.
“Yo. What you need?”
I look back, thinking he can’t be talking to me and wanting to make sure, but he’s pushed off from the building now and facing me and focused on me only.
There’s no one else around yet.
I stop walking then. “What?”
“I said, what you need, man. Come see.”
He pulls his hands out of his pockets, and then there are little baggies of pills and powder and grass, right out in the open and in my face.
And I think my heart stops.
“I probably got something you want if you’re here, you know what I’m saying?”
Then he smiles, and his teeth are brown and broken off.
My vision blurs.
“Are you fucking serious?” I roar, and I charge at the guy, grabbing him by his coat and slamming him against the stone wall.
He grunts and tries squirming away, but I press my weight into him and scream in his face.
“You’re selling shit here? What the fuck is wrong with you? The people in there are trying to get clean!”
“Yeah? Why do you think I’m here, man?”
And then he coughs and starts laughing. It sounds sick and wheezy.
I push away from him and back up, getting space before I can’t.
His hands are filled, and I want everything he’s holding.
“Fuck,” I gasp, pulling at my hair. “Fuck!”
There are murmurs at my back, and I quickly glance around.
A few others from the meeting have gathered. They’re watching me and him, and while most don’t seem to know what the fuck is going on, a couple of them know.
They know him.
They’re not sober by choice, and they won’t be much longer by the looks of them.
“It’s cool, man,” the dealer says, drawing my attention again. “It’s all good. Maybe next time. Right?”
He slips his hands back into his pockets and resumes leaning against the building in that casual, relaxed way.
Because he’s about to make a killing and he knows it.
I back up, hand trembling as I dig out my phone, but Felix is right there on the screen.
Smiling. Happy. Sober.
And his texts are right there too.
you can always stop by. I can’t wait to see you! <3
NO SNACKS?!?!
GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE JAKE
I laugh and I laugh, all loud and obnoxious, and I probably look fucking deranged.
Then I flip off this asshole and everyone who’s still standing there waiting to buy from him.
And I walk away.
DEAR FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD FELIX
FELIX
I AM SO fucking lovesick.
I’ve reread my texts with Jake so many times now, I’ve lost count.
I scroll through them all the time, every free second I have. It’s one of my favorite things to do.
I’ve even screenshot all of them now and saved the images to my Google Drive (just hear me out) because what if I get locked out of my Apple login or hacked or something else that’s equally terrible, and I have to create a new login, and then I lose all of mine and Jake’s conversations forever because I didn’t save them?
Risk losing this?
Heart emojis and I miss yous and Jake’s compliments that make me feel so damn good about myself?
I’d do anything, anything to keep this.
Who knew life could be so good?
I wish I could tell fourteen-year-old Felix about this boy named Jake who loves it when I kiss him and who wouldn’t dream of slamming my face into a locker.
I’d tell myself to hang on and wait. I’d say it gets better.
Fourteen-year-old Felix could use a little hope.
More like a ton of hope.
He barely made it.
I remember this activity we had to do in freshman English where we were asked to predict our own future.