Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
My mum is right. He was perfect. Too perfect. Suddenly things in my mind seem to be slightly clearer. My rose tinted glasses have a tiny hole in them and certain things are coming back to mind.
“I want to marry you on Wednesday.”
I don’t remember this. I don’t remember Caleb saying this. I remember him being ill, but the days before his death are just… a blur. So why am I hearing his voice now? The urgency in it… it’s very surreal.
“Hey, are you alright?”
What? I blink back to reality. “Sorry. I lost myself for a moment there.”
He lets out a laugh. “I said your name six times.”
“Sorry.” I give him an apologetic smile and look towards him. “So, what’s with the footie gear?”
“I’m taking you to meet a few of my friends. There will be terrible food and lukewarm drinks and probably ants in the grass, but you get to watch two five-a-side teams laying into each other.”
“Ah, well that makes it so worth it then.”
“Exactly.” He smiles, his eyes twinkling. “I thought you’d be more comfortable in a group setting.”
It’s a thoughtful gesture, but the wrong one. I’m shy, does he not realise this? I’ll be sat there awkwardly with whoever is present, twiddling my thumbs and mumbling incoherent answers to whatever is asked of me.
“Sounds great.” I lie. I’m nervous as hell.
“You do eat meat, right?”
“Yes.”
He lets out a breath. “Good.”
“I wish I’d known there would be food. I would have brought some cakes or something.” I mumble, my finger twisting a lock of my wavy hair around the tip.
He shrugs. “Never thought of that. Maybe I should have prepared you. The guys would really go for cakes.” He gives me a kind smile. “Next time, eh?”
“Sure.” Did I just agree to another time before I’ve even managed to get through the first?
******
“You’re bad luck.” He jokes, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a damp towel that rests across his lap. “Oh my god, everything hurts.”
I roll my eyes. “If you spent more time on your feet then you wouldn’t have been trampled on.”
“I slipped.”
My left brow hits my hairline. “Six times?”
“It’s called a sliding tackle.”
“No.” I laugh and open the door after we pull up in the driveway. “It’s called falling and trying to make it look like a sliding tackle.”
“Whatever, you’re just jealous of my wicked moves.” This makes me laugh even harder.
Overall he and his team were actually very good, they certainly didn’t lack passion. I barely got to meet his four male friends as I was quickly scooted to the side and placed with their fan girls, who were actually very friendly and in no way overbearing; I even knew one of them from my college days. Not personally though, we never spoke but we took the same English class from what I can remember.
It was fun and I’m glad I went. The food was in fact a few of those portable barbecue trays and a hell of a lot of sausages and burgers. It was as terrible as expected, but it didn’t matter. I felt included in something normal, something fun and exciting. After five minutes in I was cheering Eric and his team on along with the rest of the women.
“So, how was our fake date?” He asks, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
I nod slowly. “It was actually really good. Thank you for taking me.”
He steps around his car and pops open the boot. I hear the rustling of a plastic bag before one finally comes into view. “Popcorn and a movie?”
“Umm…”
“Awesome, take these; I’ll be back in an hour.” He gives me a wink, climbs into his car and leaves my stupefied arse in the driveway.
Opening the bag I see the DVDs, all newer titles, and a bag of sweet popcorn. How do I feel about this?
“Did you have fun?” Mum asks as I walk through the door, bag in hand.
“It was pretty good to be honest.”
“What’s in the bag?”
“He wants to come back in about an hour.” I throw my coat on the hanger and sigh when it drops to the ground, forcing me to pick it up again. “There are too many jackets on here.” I grumble and grab my other dark jacket, slinging it over my shoulder before sorting through the rest. “I’ll take these upstairs.”
As I’m throwing my pile of coats and cardigans on the bed, I hear a clatter on the ground and blink in shock at the sight of the plain black DVD case. It’s familiar and the mere sight of it makes me break out in a sweat. Grabbing it from the ground I look for a place to hide it. The implications of me holding onto such a vile recording could be dire, but I can’t bring myself to get rid of it.