Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
"Hey!" I snap. "That's my dinner, thank you."
He eyes me over the length of the bottle, chugging deeper and deeper. When he finally comes up for air, it's half gone.
"Asshole," I mutter, snatching the bottle back. I know I wouldn't have gotten it back if he didn't want me to have it back. I take a huge gulp of the wine, and as I’m swallowing, some goes down the wrong tube. I start to cough, wine sputtering out of my mouth and down my chin.
"Wow. You're grace personified."
"Fuck off," I mumble while wiping at my mouth, a smile tugging at my lips. His eyes appear to lighten, with a little glimmer of hope.
We've been doing this bickering thing every other day or so since the week after I moved here. I can’t pinpoint the exact reason, but it feels...right...normal. Of course it’s still awkward as hell while we get to know one another, but a little more of that strange feeling slips away each day. I’m starting to see him, really see him, which terrifies me because that means he’s seeing me. I guess this is what siblings are supposed to do? And maybe for a few seconds when he's here giving me shit, I don't feel quite as alone as I have felt since I lost everything.
This thought hardens me again, and I pull my knees to my chest and cradle the wine between my thighs. "Did you need something, or did you just come by to make sure I'm still alive?"
He shrugs and grabs a crescent roll off my tray. Then he stands and throws himself into the armchair across from my bed. "Doing the brotherly thing. You know, making sure you haven't hung yourself from the shower rod, annoying you, the usual brother shit.”
I almost smile. "There aren't any shower rods in this house. Everything is stainless steel, ceramic, and marble. There would never be something so basic as a shower curtain in this house."
He snorts. "Fair." He holds his hand out for the bottle, and slowly, begrudgingly, I slip the bottle into his grasp.
"Don't drink it all."
"If I do, I'll have someone bring you another bottle."
We sit in silence that doesn't quite feel as fraught until he stands, crosses the room, and hits a switch to light the fireplace.
It comes to life in a blaze of fire, and then he sits down again. "Don't tell me you don't enjoy this."
I barely withhold an eye roll. "You mean, how can someone who never had anything not appreciate that they have everything now?"
"That's not what I said."
I make a noise and snag the bottle back to take another drink. "He's been texting me."
The silence in the room suddenly feels heavier, the silence descending for a split second over the backdrop of the crackling fire.
His tone is a little more serious with his next question. "Have you been answering him?"
I stare at my feet and the chipped polish I haven't bothered to refresh in the past month. "No, not really. I haven't been encouraging him if that’s what you mean. When I do respond, which is rare, I tell him to leave me alone."
Anger flashes in his eyes. "Why haven't you blocked him?" he mutters. "I should have blocked him myself. In fact, give me your phone. I'll get you a new one with a different number, and I’ll personally ensure he doesn’t get it.”
Panic creeps to the surface, and I snatch my phone off the bed and hug it next to the bottle of wine. "You can't. I don’t want a new phone. I want to keep this one.”
The thought of losing my pictures and the voicemails from mom guts me. They’re all I have left, the only physical memories of her. The thought of losing them makes me feel like I’ve lost her all over again.
My fear and anxiety must be etched into my features because all he does is nod. "Relax, Bel. I won’t take your phone. I was just giving you shit. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
I sag into the pillows again, relief surging through me. "Right, giving me shit. You've become a pro at that."
He sighs and stares off at the fire. "I know it’s going to be hard, but I don’t think you should see Drew again. He's not good for you, and take it from someone who has been his friend for years. A leopard doesn’t change its spots. If he hurt you once, he’ll do it again.”
"You think I don't know that already? I’m not nearly as dumb as everyone thinks I am."
“I don’t think you’re dumb at all. I think you’re hungry to be loved and accepted, which can, unfortunately, make you an easy target, especially to the wrong kind of people. Drew is not the type of guy you bring home to Mom and Dad.”