Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
“Did you have a lot of people? I bet it was packed with every single person from church.”
“Of course,” I said as Heather wandered toward some of the other kids. I wrapped an arm around Matt and stole his can of Coke even though I was a Pepsi girl. “Did you think it was weird that your brother stayed after you and your parents left?” I took a few sips and handed the can back to him.
“No. He knew Coach Harvey might show up here.”
My eyebrows reached for my hairline. “You invited Coach Harvey?”
Matt smirked.
He did it just to upset his brother.
“Dude, let’s go hit some targets,” Tyler said to Matt.
The Corys had an area behind one of their barns with haystacks and empty can targets. Matt and his buddies liked to shoot BB guns.
“Coming?” Matt asked me.
I shook my head and hugged myself. “I’m cold. I’ll hang out by the fire.”
“There’s a hoodie on my bed if you can sneak upstairs,” Matt said before leading a few of the guys toward the barn.
I headed up the hill, staring at my feet to avoid making eye contact with Isaac sitting on the concrete steps at the back door. “Some of the guys are shooting BB guns behind the barn. You should go make friends.”
“I have you, Sunday Morning. What other friends could I possibly need?”
“We’re not friends. You’re just my boyfriend’s brother, who I tolerate.” I squeezed past him.
“Where are you going?”
“None of your beeswax.”
He chuckled. “Beeswax?”
I ignored him as the screen door shut behind me. Then I wormed my way through the people in the living room and dashed up the stairs when I didn’t think anyone was looking. After I returned to the main level, Violet and some of the Corys’ extended family pulled me aside to ask a million questions about my future plans. By the time I made it out back again, Isaac was nowhere in sight, and I relaxed while trekking toward the barn in Matt’s sweatshirt that was too long in the arms.
Before I reached the back side of the barn, I heard something inside—a guitar. I paused my steps for a few seconds and listened to the melancholy chords. Falling prey to my curiosity, I eased open the creaky door and wandered toward the weathered ladder to the loft, where there was light coming from the corner. When I reached the top, the boards whined beneath my steps, and the music stopped.
“Are you lost?” Isaac said as I peeked around the corner of the stacked hay bales. He sat beneath a utility light with a soft yellow glow cast over him. With one knee bent and the other outstretched, he hugged an acoustic guitar.
“How many guitars do you have?” I asked, ignoring his question.
“A few.” He strummed a new chord.
Through the old barn walls, I could hear the pinging of BBs hitting cans out back.
“So little turkey sandwiches are your favorite, yet you stayed at my house. Would it have anything to do with Coach Harvey?”
Isaac stopped strumming and eyed me with a serious expression. Then he rested the guitar beside him and picked up his half-eaten plate of food, resuming his feast. It was warm in the barn loft, so I pulled Matt’s hoodie over my head and removed my clunky brown boots.
Isaac stopped chewing mid-bite, eyes wide. “Keep going,” he said.
I wrinkled my nose at him while crossing my legs and sitting on the dirty planks of wood. When I picked up his guitar, he didn’t stop me. I pressed my left fingers to the strings and strummed a chord with my right hand.
“Thought you didn’t play,” he said.
“I don’t,” I said, playing another chord. “But I’ve watched closely when other people have played, so I know like two chords.”
“As long as you remember our deal,” he mumbled over the food in his mouth.
“Deal?” I continued to pluck the strings while glancing up at him.
He smirked. “If you touch something that’s mine, I get to touch something that’s yours.”
I began to care a little less that he made me blush, especially with a guitar in my hands. “What do you want to touch?” I don’t know if it was the long day, the thick, musty air in the barn, the dim light, or holding something I loved, but I felt brave.
And curious.
Was Isaac messing with me the way he messed with Matt?
His grin swelled until it turned into a slight chuckle, and he rocked his head, but he didn’t answer me. Matt thought Isaac was irritating; I found him amusing.
“What do you want to play?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I murmured, staring at my hands. My parents weren’t wrong; my fingers didn’t have adequate callouses to play the guitar.
“Liar,” Isaac said, setting his plate aside and standing.
I continued to strum my single chord while tracking him. My fingers slipped when he sat behind me, his legs sliding around me as his chest pressed to my back. He ghosted his arm along mine to my hand, cupping it; his fingers pressing mine to the strings. My shaky fingers cascaded down them.