Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
In the meantime, please feel free to contact me via email or phone, should you have any questions.
We look forward to having you on our team.
Best regards,
Todd Downing
Downing Enterprises
I hit reply, but my phone rings in my bedroom. I jog there to get it, and after finding it on my nightstand, I pick it up.
There’s a text on the screen. From Ripley.
My breathing is shallow as I sit on the edge of the bed.
Ripley: Saturday. Noon. Work for you?
I stare at the words. Five words. Short and simple.
My brows tug together as I try to read his tone.
Is he mad? Busy? Irritated?
Or just being a dick?
Me: Okay.
His response is almost immediate.
Ripley: Love the excitement.
My fingers fly over the keys.
Me: I was trying to be succinct.
Ripley: I noticed. Why change your behavior now?
Me: Very funny.
Me: You sent five words, so I was trying not to take up your time in case you were busy.
Ripley: Don’t you want to know what we’re doing on Saturday at noon?
I laugh, sighing in relief.
Me: Nope. If I would’ve realized we were skating, I might not have gone. It’s probably better that I don’t know.
Ripley: Did you enjoy skating though?
I bite my lip, attempting to read through the lines. Does he actually mean skating? Or does he mean the date as a whole? Or is he asking how I feel about almost kissing him?
My cheeks burn as I decide what to say.
Me: I didn’t fall, so that’s a plus.
Ripley: So, you didn’t like it?
Me: I didn’t say that. At all.
Ripley: That’s what it sounds like.
Me: You can’t read tone.
“Even though I’ve been trying to do it for the entirety of this conversation,” I say.
I get to my feet, too much energy flowing through me to sit, and sort out my response. I don’t want him to think I don’t appreciate him going to the trouble of putting the skating thing together, or that I don’t remember how thoughtful he was about how he selected that location.
If he makes fun of me for being nice, I’ll deck him.
My stomach tightens as I type.
Me: To be honest, I had a REALLY great time. I never would’ve done it if it weren’t for you. I think it helped jostle me out of a funk that I’ve been trying to snap out of for a while.
Me: It was also very sweet of you to have remembered that I wanted to go skating. Thank you. I hope you had fun, too.
Ripley: You’re welcome.
I sigh.
Me: So YOU didn’t like it?
Ripley: You can’t read tone.
My lips twist in annoyance, although it’s borderline funny.
Ripley: I’m glad we went, too. It was fun. It would’ve been more fun if you’d fallen, and I could’ve laughed at you. But you surprised us both by staying on your skates and picking up the concept really fast.
Me: Would you really have let me fall?
His response comes right away.
Ripley: No.
I pace through the house. His response was immediate. No hesitation.
My heart tugs in my chest. “Why do you have to be so damn confusing?”
Me: Ever thought of going into acting? Because you’re pretty great at it.
Ripley: I learned from the best.
Me: Who?
Ripley: You.
I bite my lip and stare at the words like they’ll suddenly make sense. I can’t figure out if he means that he thinks I’m acting—which I am, but also, I’m not.
I don’t know where to go from here, and the tension gathers in the back of my neck.
Me: I got a job today, by the way. I start in two weeks. It might interfere with some of our filming, I’m not sure. I’ll let you know.
Ripley: Congrats. That’s great, Peaches.
Me: Thanks.
Ripley: I’ll see you Saturday. Wear sneakers and sunscreen.
Me: Will do. See you then.
I wait for him to respond, but he doesn’t.
Wear sneakers and sunscreen.
I sigh.
The devil just might be taking me to hell.
I hope I don’t get burned.
Chapter Nineteen
Ripley
This was a mistake.
I flip off the camera as a crack of thunder breaks through the air.
“Will you please hurry up? Just a little?” I ask, sitting on a large boulder.
“Hey! You can’t sit if I can’t sit.” Georgia stops in the middle of the trail with her hands on the curve of her hips. “If you’re sitting, I’m sitting.”
“If you sit, we’ll never get to the top of the hill.”
“Oh, like that would be a tragedy.”
I roll my eyes. “You picked this trail. I gave you three choices. This is the one you wanted.”
“It has an adorable name—Sugarplum Trail. That’s very misleading.”
“Except I told you it was harder than the others.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t warn me that this one was so …” She looks around at the dense brush, large trees, and rocks jutting out of the path. “Trail-y.”
I look at the sky and sigh. This woman.
“Can’t we just go back?” she asks, jutting her bottom lip out. “Please?”