Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
“All right, so you’ve stalled long enough. I think it’s time we got up to do our morning exercise. What do you think?”
Lucas
I stand outside the doors of my grandmother’s wing of the house. I’ve stood here for way too long eavesdropping. Fuck! I want to scream it from the rooftops, but I know doing so is not going to give me any kind of peace. I hate hearing my grandmother talk this way. Fuck, any time she talks about leaving, it literally makes me nauseous. She’s been like a mother to me my whole life. A real mom... not like the woman that gave birth to me.
The sound of rap music draws me out of my musings as a man sings about getting tipsy in the club. Instantly a smile forms on my lips. My grandmother hates exercise, any and every form of it, but what gets her moving is rap music. I don’t get it, and I’ve long since given up trying to explain it. It brings me back to when I was younger and she used to make me dance with her to this music. Country music is more my speed, but for Grandma, I’d do anything. I lean against the doorjamb and peer inside.
Sure enough, Granny and Isabella are standing up dancing. Well, Granny is more just softly swaying back and forth, but I smile watching my grandmother. She always seems to get lost in the music, and she’s obviously happy. I let my gaze trail over to Isabella. Her long brown hair is in a ponytail, and it’s swinging back and forth as she moves to the music. She’s clapping along with my grandmother, and the way they’re smiling at each other, it’s obvious how much they love and care about each other.
My grandma stops and hollers over the music, “Here comes the chorus, Issi. Do it!”
Isabella is already shaking her head side to side. “No...”
Granny claps her hands together. “Do it, Issi. Please... for me.”
And when the chorus comes on, Isabella breaks into some kind of dance routine. It seems I’m not the only one that will give Granny what she wants.
I should look away. I know I should announce that I’m here, but as I watch Issi grind her hips, shake side to side, pop to a squat and back again, all while gyrating her hips, there’s nothing I can do but stare with my mouth hanging open. Isabella is the timid girl that used to hang out with our grandmas. When she wasn’t with them, she always had her nose stuck in a book. We rarely crossed paths a lot, and when we did, not much was said. We are from two different worlds, and even though I’ve always tried to be nice to her, that’s as far as it’s ever gone.
But standing here, watching her move her hips, it seems there’s a side to Isabella that I’ve never seen before. I shift my stance as I watch her thick hips shimmy side to side. I can feel my attraction growing, and if I don’t do something about it, it’s going to be obvious to everyone what I’m standing here thinking about.
I clear my throat, but no one notices. I do it again, louder this time.
Both women stop and stare at me. Granny just smiles, but Isabella’s face turns at least ten shades of red before she walks over to the speaker and turns it down. “We were... we were just getting our exercise in.”
I put my hands on my hips. “And what? You thought dancing was the right exercise for her? And to rap music, no less.”
I regret it as soon as I say it. I don’t know what it is, but it seems that lately, Isabella brings out the worst in me. I should probably try to figure that out, but there’s something holding me back from doing it.
Isabella, who’s never one time stood up to me, brings her arms up to cross on her chest. “Actually, any movement is good for her, and dancing is something that brings her joy.”
I cross my arms over my chest, mirroring her. “And the rap music?”
She opens her mouth and then closes it again. Finally, she blurts. “What? I like rap music. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
My lips twitch, but I refuse to give in to the smile. So Isabella is not going to call my grandmother out for her surprising taste in music. Before I can come up with a response, Isabella is making her way to the door. “I’m going to go check on your breakfast, G. I’ll be back.”
I watch as she walks out the door. Her jeans are tight across her ass, and I resist the urge to reach out and stop her.
“She’s something... isn’t she?”
My grandma’s words draw my eyes from the door, and I look at her with a closed expression. “Actually, I was thinking that maybe we should hire a nurse with more experience.”