Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
“Why?” I croaked, my mouth so dry it hurt to swallow. “Why would someone mow the lawn this early?”
The sound suddenly stopped. Huh, must have been in my head. I curled down around my fluffy, white pillow and started to fall asleep again when the sound of a saw filled the air.
I almost tumbled out of the bed. “The hell?”
Next door, August was sawing down a small tree with the lawnmower still present on the lawn as if he’d thought mid-mow, “Hey, you know what’s a good idea? Tree chopping.”
When he was done with that, he pulled off his black T-shirt and tossed it to the ground. I gaped like the peeping Tom I was and ducked beneath the window ledge, slightly lifting my blackout curtain with my right hand to peek out.
I gasped when he grabbed a bottle of water, poured it over his head, and shook his hair, only to run his hands through the locks and then wipe those same hands down his body.
“Who drinks water like that?” I licked my lips and leaned closer when he suddenly looked over at our house—specifically, my window.
Panicked, I jerked back and dropped the curtain. He didn’t see me. I knew he didn’t see me.
I squeezed my eyes shut for a few minutes and then slowly crawled back under the covers, only to hear the doorbell ring.
Was everyone awake?
I jolted out of bed and ran down the hall, ready to give whoever it was a piece of my mind, when I saw a small, pink box on the doorstep with my name on it.
It even had a cute white bow with pink and black stripes.
I picked it up, then checked out the scribble on a small piece of white paper.
Not the only thing I had in store for you this morning. Did you like the show? Only the best for the princess.
I immediately scowled, but I was too damn curious not to take the box and its offensive note inside. I quickly tucked the package under my arm, slammed the door behind me, sprinted back up to my room, and leaned against the wall.
What was he up to?
Was the pink glitter too much?
My laugh of disbelief could probably be heard next door. I tossed the box onto my bed and crossed my arms, then heard the lawnmower start again.
I wanted to shout, “Go to hell!” out my window. Instead, I looked at the gift again. What? What could it possibly be?
And why?
Would this be a jump scare?
And why did my stomach do a few flip-flops when I thought about the possibility that it actually was a present? I hated him. Loathed him. He was my enemy, not my friend.
I quickly dropped to my knees and drummed my fingertips on the top of the pretty box, then finally convinced myself that it was a stellar idea to untie the pink bow and pull it open. “Here goes nothing.”
Weirdly, my hands were shaking, and my pink nail polish stood out as my fingers undid the bow and pulled it loose so I could open the box and look inside.
It was pretty.
And I hated him for it. I hated him so much. Because it was something that my great-grandma would have given me. She’d always called me her little princess, and when I was young, I’d twirl wearing the pink plastic crowns she’d buy at Target, and hold the scepter I believed would control those around me. My parents were good sports, my dad especially. I’d tell him to fall out of the tree house and pretend to be a dog, and he’d actually bark, making me laugh so hard I’d run and get tackled.
I truly had the best upbringing.
My throat swelled as I touched the crown with my fingertips. It was something you’d get from Amazon or another retailer: plastic with fake, silver-framed bright blue diamonds.
With shaking hands, I reached for the note tucked inside.
Spoiled princesses always get crowns, even if they’re fake. Should you put yours on? BTW, thanks so much for the glitter, I’ll use it wisely.
I tossed the card like it was cursed.
“Take a few breaths,” I said out loud. “Just a few deep breaths.” It was like I was my own therapist. How dare he take something so personal and turn it into something I should be offended by, all for having an amazing great-grandma and family?
I’d just graduated and celebrated her life, and he sent me this?
I looked over my shoulder at the wall behind me.
It was filled with pictures of me and Great-Grandma Nadine. I was young, but my parents always took pictures when I snuck into her room and opened her makeup drawer. Her lipstick always smelled like vanilla, and she had the tips of the tubes looking funny because of the way she put it on.