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)
“Better?” I asked.
He shook his head and covered his mouth while bolting out of the room.
“Matt?” I plucked my shirt off the floor and followed him while threading my arms through it.
He slammed the bathroom door and hurled.
The door was locked, so I gently knocked. “Matt, are you okay? Open the door.”
Again, he retched, and I wrinkled my nose with my hand resting on the door like I wanted to rest it on his back and comfort him.
“S-Sarah … I don’t want you to see me like this,” he said with a weak voice.
“Matt, everyone gets sick. It’s fine. Open the door. Do you think it’s food poisoning?”
“I don’t—”
For a third time, he vomited.
“What can I get you? I can see if there’s some ginger ale or 7UP. Want me to do that?”
“S-sure.”
I jogged down the stairs and checked the fridge, but there was only a partial liter bottle of Squirt. When I poured it into the glass, it didn’t even fizz, but I took it upstairs anyway.
“There was only Squirt, so that’s what I have. Can you please unlock the door?”
“Just set it outside. Go home. I’m begging you.”
“I don’t have a car.”
“Take mine.”
“I’m not driving your car. If anything happened, your dad would be upset.”
“Just … Sarah …” he released a noise that sounded like a mix between a sigh and a moan.
“I can call Heather or ask Isaac to take me home,” I said with a heavy sigh.
The toilet flushed. “Do that,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. If it’s food poisoning, I could be sick soon too.”
“I hope not,” he murmured, and it sounded like his voice was coming from under the door. He must have lain on the floor.
“Call me tomorrow,” I said with a cringe.
Was it awful that I felt bad for Matt and relieved for myself in equal measure?
In the kitchen, I tried calling Heather, but no one answered. So I headed out to the barn, where I had played guitar with Isaac. I heard music as I opened the door. And once again, the creaking ladder to the loft announced my arrival.
“Out of condoms already?” he asked without looking up from the guitar. Isaac was perched on a haybale he’d covered with a stable blanket.
“Matt is sick. I don’t know if it’s food poisoning or what. I need a ride home. I don’t want to drive his car. I called Heather, but no one answered at her house.”
“And your parents?” Isaac glanced up at me.
I frowned. “I’d have to explain why I’m here when your parents are not.”
“I can’t take you home yet.”
“Why not?”
He nodded to the empty cans of beer next to him.
“Well, when do you think you’ll be sober enough to drive me home?”
Isaac chuckled, setting his guitar aside. “I’m being cut off early because you need a ride home?”
“Why do you make it sound like I’m asking you to make sacrifices for me? I’m never kissing you, so feel free to smoke. I’m never going back to the rodeo, so have fun abusing baby cows. And if you don’t want to quit drinking yet, I’ll walk home.”
He looked at his watch. “Yeah, you should be able to make it home if you walk. What time is your curfew?”
I turned around and stepped toward the ladder. “Never mind.”
“I’ll stop drinking. Maybe I can teach you some new chords. Or I can teach you other things.”
“What are you doing?” I murmured before turning around.
“You asked me for a ride home. I’m obliging.”
I tucked my hair behind my ears and sighed while facing him. “Do you hate me, your brother, my family, God, or all of the above?”
Isaac scratched the back of his head. “Uh, none of the above. Why?”
“Because you’re toying with me, your brother’s girlfriend.”
“I’m flirting with you.”
“Why?”
“Sunday Morning,” he grinned, “do I really have to explain flirting to you? If so, my brother has failed you more than I suspected.”
“Why are you flirting with someone else’s girlfriend?”
“Chemistry, I suppose. Combustion. Fermentation. Rusting. Photosynthesis. I’m not making a conscious decision to feel an attraction to you. I just do. And thinking I shouldn’t feel a certain way or someone telling me that it’s wrong doesn’t change our chemistry.”
“Our?” I lifted my eyebrows.
“Don’t.” Isaac stood, shaking his head. “Don’t pretend that this is one-sided. You can be angry or feel guilty about it, and you can try to deny it, but that would only make you a liar.”
“What if I told you I don’t like sex?” I needed a good argument or deterrent, but the second that left my mouth, I knew it wasn’t an argument; it was an embarrassing confession.
“I’d say you need better lingerie so Matt thinks he’s having sex with his hot girlfriend instead of his pastor’s daughter.”
I glanced down at my shirt and grinned. “Nice try. I wasn’t wearing this shirt when we had it. And I don’t think it was his fault. I just think it’s not my thing.” I shrugged, owning my truth.