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)
“It’s not that funny,” I complain on a grumble. “It’s embarrassing, and it’s whatever. We can move on now. Well, after you read me the riot act and decide what my punishment will be, I guess.”
“Well, sure, we can move on, but that poor rug will never move on! It’s dead. Burned. Will never live to see another day!” He’s still on the floor, just straight up cackling through his words.
“You’re not that funny, you know,” I mutter. “You’re not doing stand-up on a fifty-city tour. You can tone it down a little bit and just be supportive.”
“Oh, son, this is support. Support and laughter go hand in hand,” he says and eventually finds his way back to his spot on the couch and in front of the camera. “You don’t think I’ve been laughed at? That the things I did while I was trying to land your mother aren’t worthy of their own set list? They are, buddy. Every motherfucker I know who’s married has one too. Because we men are idiots when we fall hard. Can’t seem to see straight, but I can’t blame us. It’s awful hard to have perfect sight when your head is that far up your own ass.”
I sigh. “I just…normally have more game than this. I don’t know what my deal is.”
“That there is a true sign that you are, indeed, in love.”
“Some good it’s doing me. I’m not getting anywhere, and you’re starting world wars with her father.”
“Relax. Kline and I will be fine. You think we haven’t had some spats over the years? We’ve been friends for a long time, and we’re gonna continue to be friends until we’re dead. The bastard might still be annoyed with me, but the lines of communication are there. We’re texting. Phone chatting. You know, the normal shit but with him saying shut up and fuck you most of the time. You just keep up your end of the work with Julia. Though, I suggest you stop starting fires.”
“I wanted to have to stay at her place.” I admit the true intent behind the fire. “So… I thought a fire would help bring that desire to fruition.”
“Ha!” he barks. “A classic move. But next time, son, may I suggest a pest control issue? Or landlord-ordered maintenance. A fake gas leak. There’s a lot to work with here that doesn’t require the same level of theatrics.”
I let out a deep exhale. “Yeah, I guess—” The sound of the door opening cuts me off in mid-sentence. “She’s back. I gotta go,” I whisper. He gives the thumbs-up, but I end the call, way better for the wear than intended.
I thought he’d fucking kill me. And really, he should have. But love is Thatcher Kelly’s weakness. He can’t fight it. Can’t deny it. Can’t belittle it.
If I’d set fire to my apartment for any other reason, he’d have me by the throat. But love? It’s the ultimate excuser of all behaviors in his eyes.
I sure hope when Julia finds out, she’ll feel the same.
Friday, Aug 15th
Julia
Drew: I need to see you again. Maybe we can make a date happen soon?
“Julia! You have to see this! Come here!” Ace calls from the bedroom of my apartment, having officially moved in with me for the time being while the fire cleanup in his place is underway. I still can’t believe he almost torched his entire place—this entire building—trying to get rid of a bug.
“One second!” I yell back, fingers poised on my phone to type a text back to Drew. I haven’t exactly detailed the fact that Ace is staying with me to him, and I’m not quite sure I’m going to. There’s not really a good way to explain to a guy you like that another guy is sleeping in your bed every night, even if he is your best friend with whom you’ve done it hundreds of times. Especially, given the history of how Drew feels about Ace’s intentions. Ever since Ace joined all my classes, an extra layer of tension has spread between the three of us.
I also haven’t had as much time to hang out with classes taking up my time too, and I know Drew’s starting to wonder if I’m even interested anymore.
I don’t know if tonight will work…or the next couple days…but maybe next week?
I wince, deleting the text entirely. That sounds rude and like I’m trying to brush him off in the worst way, and I’m not. I’m enjoying the time I’ve been spending with Drew a lot. I just…think the bed might be a little tight with three of us.
Not that I’m even close to sleeping with Drew. I’m not. We’ve barely even kissed for real, and physically, I just don’t know if I’m completely ready to go all the way with someone. I know I’m technically an adult at eighteen—almost nineteen—but sometimes I still feel so young.