Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
I’m scared. And shaken. And this is only the beginning.
“What? You didn’t have a good time?” My dad shakes his head. “Julia looked like she had a good time with that Chad guy.”
“Chad?” my mom asks, popping up from her forlorn spot and entering the conversation again. “Who’s Chad? I thought his name was Brad.”
“Chad, Brad, whatever.” Thatch just shrugs a shoulder. “He seemed like a cool dude.”
“Who?” I ask, only half cognizant of the conversation. I’m too busy picturing Finn and Scottie chumming it up on double date-ish terms while they chatted with Julia and whatshisface. And to think I’ve spent the last year considering Finnley Hayes my bestie. My brother from another mother.
He’ll be hearing of my feelings on his betrayal. That’s for sure.
“The guy Julia was with,” my mom clarifies helpfully, snapping me both into awareness and an All-American rage.
“Fuck that guy,” I say simply.
“Whoa, bud. I don’t know if we can condone this language,” my dad jokes, and I roll my eyes.
“His name isn’t Chad or Brad. And he’s not fucking cool. Not even a little bit.”
“Oh jeez, sorry, Mr. Name Police. Did I strike a nerve or what?” my dad asks, glancing over his shoulder at my mom conspiratorially.
I shake my head and move away to start collecting Solo cups while they continue to bicker back and forth.
“Go easy on him, you fuck,” my mom chastises. “Remember how pathetic you were when you were in love with me?”
“Pathetic?” my dad scoffs. “I was not pathetic. And what does love have to do with Chad?”
“Please!” my mom volleys back. “You were the most pathetic! You practically begged me to live with you. Sent me flowers all the time. Kept sleeping with me even though I continually fell asleep on you. You were desperate. Hard up.”
“Uh-uh, honey.” He waggles his finger at my mom. “I think your memory is taking creative liberties, because the way I remember it, you were the one doing the begging. You moved in with me without invitation, sent yourself flowers from my dick, and got me a pig so you could baby-trap me.”
Philmore oinks with perfect timing, cruising through the room on the way to his playroom down the hall.
I sigh and pick up more cups, my mind whirling on a new plan for setting Julia’s love train back on the right tracks—the ones that lead to me.
Most people would say I need to tell her how I feel, but I know with every ounce of my being she is not ready for this kind of intimate knowledge. And I can’t ruin our friendship. Before I realized I was in love with her, I could barely stand to spend a day without her. Now that I’m privy to my heart’s one and only true desire, I’d put Julia in my pocket and carry her around all day if I could.
Which, frankly, would be incredibly helpful when it comes to keeping her away from Dicky Drewlface.
You’re an idiot. Julia is petite, but she’s not Tinker Bell.
Against my better judgment, I turn back to my parents, reengaging them in conversation. “When you guys were dating, what changed your mind from just fucking around to it being the real deal? I mean, why do you love each other?”
My mom flashes a look to my dad, moving the peas on her vagina enough to sit up straight. “Well, son, your father, despite his many, many idiosyncrasies, is a capable man. He’s a good lover, a good heart, and a really good sportsman.”
“Sports—” I shake my head at myself and cut the question short. “You know what, never mind. I don’t wanna know.” I sigh. “I just thought…you guys seem happy and…” I huff as my mom’s eyes get wide. “Forget it.”
“What’s on your mind, Acer?” Thatcher insists, waving a hand at my mom to keep her quiet. “Having trouble with the ladies?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t worry about it, Dad.”
“I’m sorry, buddy, but I can’t do that,” he says earnestly.
And I thaw a little, wondering if my initial idea to bring my parents into the problem/solution brainstorm wasn’t such a bad idea. Maybe they can help—
“I have to worry about it because your erectile dysfunction could sully the Kelly name.”
“Dad!” I shout, all my good feelings officially gone and beaten by a dead horse I should’ve known they’d kill. “I’m not suffering from ED!”
“Well!” he shouts back, shrugging at my mom with a playful wince.
“Forget it.” I hold up a desperate hand. “Just go back to your icing vaginas and shitty vacuuming and forget I said anything.”
“Come on, now, Acer.” My dad sits down on the couch beside my mom and pats the cushion next to him, and stupidly, I take him up on the offer. “Let’s have a real talk about what’s going on.”
I shake my head. I’m not ready to have a real talk. To confess my love for Julia or beg for help or ask them how I could have ignored it for so long. So I just sit there instead, soaking in the silence. For the first time maybe ever, they soak it in too.