Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“It’s a terrarium,” he corrects me.
“Whatever. It’s Satan’s playground is what it is.”
He smiles gleefully and then takes off running toward the car, arms raised, waving his sword like he’s about to battle an enemy. I can’t help but feel the same way.
Luckily everything goes well and Kevin was just content to tap on the glass and feed Fluffy crickets, which I was forced to watch with him as he gave the gruesome scene some National Geographic worthy commentary.
When I got back to the house, Kevin was in a lot lighter mood, even though he started pouting when I had to leave.
“Please, stay for dinner,” he whines as we stand in the hall.
Angelica pokes her head around the corner. “You’re welcome to stay Blake.” And if my eyes aren’t failing me her expression is practically pleading. I guess she sees how much her son needs a friend right now.
I sigh, unable to say no. “Okay,” I say and he shrieks with joy. “Let me just make a phone call first.”
Even though I’m glad Kevin’s happy I know Amanda isn’t going to be. I dial her number—it doesn’t feel right to text her this—and head outside to talk.
“Hey,” she says, sounding surprised and I can’t help but smile briefly at hearing her voice. I wipe it off my face right away.
“Hey, listen,” I say and then I hear her groan over the phone. “What?”
“I know what you’re going to say,” she says flatly.
“Pretty sure you don’t. I have to cancel tonight. I’m so sorry but—”
“Yup, I knew it.”
I feel a twinge of frustration. “What does that mean?”
“It means I knew you were going to cancel. Let me guess, hot date?”
“Hot date?” I repeat.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
I press my palm into my forehead. “Why are you saying all these confusing things?”
“Rio saw you on Wharf Street a few days ago, hitting on some blondes with your friend.”
“Did Rio also mention I had a heap of beer spilled on me?” Granted, I wasn’t the one hitting on them, or even talking to them, so I don’t know what the hell Rio is talking about but since Amanda is already jumping to conclusions, I have no need to correct her.
“She said something about that too,” she says.
“And why do you care anyway?”
“Me?” she asks snidely. “I just don’t want my grade to suffer because you can’t keep it in your pants.”
Oh that fucking does it. “Fine,” I tell her. “I do have a hot date. Two blondes. Sorry I can’t meet up with you but I think a threesome takes precedent over homework.”
“Oh fuck off,” she says.
“You’re the third person to tell me that this whole weekend. It must be good luck.”
She hangs up.
I stare at the phone for a while, the triumph over pissing her off slowly slipping away. I really should have told her the truth, but I just couldn’t help myself. Let her think what she wants of me, what does it matter in the end? I’m no stranger to judgement and what she thinks of me should be my last concern. There are bigger things to worry about here.
I take in a deep breath and head inside the house.
CHAPTER 7
Amanda
“Seriously, fuck everyone,” Rio says, swiping my phone from me. “You need to make my contact name ‘Daddy Issues’.”
We’re in a tapas bar downtown, one of my favorite places to go since the food and wine are phenomenal and it’s located down this narrow brick alley that makes you think you’re in some quaint European city, but unfortunately neither of us are in the best mood. Rio has just finished telling me about the thirty-five year old single dad she’s seeing, illustrating the time his ex-wife and child came home early and caught them both buck-ass naked in bed. Me, well, I’ve been listening to her but mainly stewing over the asshole maneuver that Blake pulled tonight.
I think what pisses me off more is not that I’m missing out on a night of finishing up the project but that I was actually looking forward to Blake’s company. It pains me to admit it but for the last two weeks, I’ve started enjoying our time together, both of us working toward a common goal. It’s like for once I’m with someone who understands the drive to write and the deep-seated perfectionist need to make it the best that it can be.
But then he blew off our meeting to go bang some chicks and so now I’m at the bar, drinking rioja like it’s going out of style.
Rio hands my phone back to me and I check that she indeed changed her contact name to “Daddy Issues.” “Anyway,” she says, popping an olive in her mouth, “I’m not sure how much longer this will last.”
“It’s only been a week,” I remind her quietly.
“Feels like a lifetime,” she says, giving me a sidelong glance. “Hey, you better start smiling or keep drinking or I’m not going to sit with you anymore.”