Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 769(@200wpm)___ 615(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 769(@200wpm)___ 615(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
And, somehow, more even than the beating and Jamie dying, it’s Rex’s decision to change his body that hits me the hardest. His need to believe that if he were only physically strong enough then he would be able to protect everyone he cared about. He didn’t mention it, but he must feel like his size protects him too.
WHEN I get to Rex’s, he’s sitting at a small table in the living room grumbling while sketching something that looks like the plans for a dresser, Marilyn lying at his feet. There’s a fire crackling, and the whole house smells like cedar and pine and maple, like maybe Rex ate pancakes for breakfast. He’s wearing dark gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt worn thin, its sleeves pulling tight over his biceps every time he tenses his arm to erase.
“Hi,” I say, and I dump my stuff next to the table, slinging my jacket over the chair opposite his. Because of all the time I spent covering Peggy’s classes this week, I’m behind on my own grading. Rex told me to come on over and do it at his house and we could have dinner whenever I was done.
“Hey,” he says, and reaches an arm out to me. He slides his chair back enough to pull me onto his lap, something I thought only happened to children and, like, cheerleaders or girls who were about to get proposed to. But he’s warm, even in a T-shirt, and he smells so good.
“What are you grumbling about?”
“Hmm. Just work.”
“What’s up?”
“Oh, I want to do more woodworking and less odd jobs. Don’t get me wrong,” he says quickly, “I’m really glad the work’s there. I just—well, I’ve been trying to figure out if I could, I dunno. People around here know that I make furniture, but it’s not a big town. Obviously,” he adds at my snort. “So, I was just thinking about how to make it more of a business. Transition more into custom jobs like that. Just a thought.”
“That’s awesome,” I tell him. “Your work’s beautiful. Of course you should get the word out. You need a website, for sure. And do you have pictures of the pieces you’ve sold? If not, I’m sure the people you sold them to would let you photograph them. Then people can reach you through the website to place orders. You know?” I trail off at the blank expression on Rex’s face.
“Um,” he says, “I’m not so good with computers.”
“I can help you. It’s so easy now. There’re free sites you can use and tons of tutorials online.”
He makes a noncommittal sound and kisses me, and I immediately lose track of everything except that I’m sitting on his lap and he’s kissing me.
He tastes like Rex and coffee. Mmm, coffee….
Apparently, I said that out loud, because he chuckles and asks me if I want some. I nod eagerly and follow him into the kitchen, where he pushes me against the counter and kisses me, a long, deep kiss that bumps grading at least thirty slots farther down the things-I-want-to-do list than it already was.
“I missed you this week,” he says, and pulls me into his shoulder.
“Me too,” I say. “Sorry. It was a killer week. Freaking Peggy,” I spit out.
Rex squeezes my shoulder with one big hand and I kind of melt against him involuntarily.
“Jesus,” he says. “You’re all knots. It doesn’t seem fair that this Peggy woman can just make you do her work.”
“She didn’t make me. But, you know, I’m low man on the totem pole or whatever, so I’ve got to put the time in.”
He takes my other shoulder in his hand and massages them for a minute. At first I tense up, but then every muscle relaxes, including the ones keeping my eyes open. I groan.
“Well, I don’t think it’s right,” Rex says. “Are they at least paying you for it?”
“It doesn’t really work that way in academia,” I say.
Rex makes an irritated sound and his thumbs dig in harder.
“Ugh, you gotta stop; you’re gonna put me to sleep,” I tell Rex, but I’m kind of nuzzling him.
“After dinner I’ll finish, okay?” His voice is husky. He tilts my chin up and kisses me. “Finish your work,” he says, and the promise in his voice thrills me.
“Hey, which is your Wi-Fi network?” I ask Rex. “My piece-of-shit computer isn’t picking anything up.”
Rex looks surprised.
“Oh,” he says, his shoulders going rigid. “I don’t have one.”
“You don’t have the Internet?”
“Don’t need it much. When I do, I go to the library. Oh, do you need it to get your work done? I should have told you, I guess. I just didn’t think of it.”
“No, it’s okay, I just… man, I’ve just been in academic-world too long, I think; I didn’t think to ask. I use it to double-check if I suspect a student’s plagiarized. But, no, it doesn’t matter. I can do that later.”