Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Because I was a lying liar who lied and wanted to make sure everyone around me thought I led a normal, happy life. I was careful to tell Dylan I had crushes on boys, and that I kissed them often. I didn’t want her to know that, on top of being the one who blinked all the time and suffered from social anxiety, I also had a violently fearful reaction to men. So I occasionally told her I made out with guys. I was careful to swear her to secrecy so as not to start vicious rumors about other people.
“Dude, I’m only looking at him because he is blocking my view of Rhy.” Lie number 3,447,358 slipped past my lips.
“You are a terrible liar.” Dylan took a slow sip of her iced tea. “Quit ogling my brother, Dot. Unless, of course, you’re catching feelings for him.”
Thump.
Wood splinters flew sideways under Row’s axe. The scent of pine oil tinged my nostrils sharply. Row’s abs contracted with each movement. He looked like an Abercrombie & Fitch Super Bowl ad. I waited for the part where I wanted to run away from him to kick in, but it never did.
“Feelings? For Row? Dude, no way.” I sat up straight, horrified. Luckily, my complexion hid my intense blushing—I was already purple from trying to get a tan.
Thump.
Dylan scrunched her nose. “Wow. It’s not that hard to believe, you know. He’s a great guy.”
“He is. Nonetheless, I’m not crushing on your brother,” I lied. I was. Stalking his Instagram two hundred times a day, even though he was too cool to be on top of his social media. Tormenting myself by imagining all the chic, European girls he hooked up with.
Thump, thump, thump.
Row’s bronze deltoids and triceps bulged delectably under a thin coat of sweat.
“You better not be.” Dylan jerked the straps of her bikini top down her shoulders to allow for an even tan. “He deserves a fairy tale, not some meaningless hookup.”
“I don’t even do that many hookups,” I protested weakly. Zero was the number of hookups I’d had in recent years. Even that was exaggerated.
“Still. You only do crushes, never relationships.”
Not in the mood to be reminded how Row was way above my league, I picked up my Daisy Dukes from the lawn and hopped up, slipping them on. “I better head home. Dad wants to teach me how to pickle eggs.”
“Jesus, Cal.” Rhyland stuck his axe’s blade in the ground, retying his man-bun. “Some of us want to eat in this century.”
“Don’t slam it before you try it, Rhy.” I winked, pretending that he didn’t scare me. He did. A little. In a manageable way.
Row had his back to me, still chopping. He was pretty far away, but I could see the new tattoos snaking up and down his skin, swarming with colorful ink. I wanted him to turn around. To award me with his sleek, predatory gaze that turned me inside out.
“Fucking humidity is making it hot enough to scald a lizard.” Rhyland grabbed his shirt from the yellowed grass, slipped it on, then began rolling himself a joint. “I’m tapping out. Cal, wanna bum a ride?”
I did, but I also didn’t like the idea of being alone with a guy who wasn’t Dad or Row. “Thanks, but I—”
“I’ll drive her.” Row hurled his axe against the tree trunk he’d used to chop the wood, burying the blade inside. He picked up a kitchen towel and wiped off his hands. “Gotta buy some ice anyway.”
Can’t you just shave some off your heart?
“Oh, I don’t want to burden you.” I braided my hair over my shoulder awkwardly.
Row threw me a dry look. “You’re about a decade late and a dollar short. Get your stuff, Dot. Hopping in the shower, then we’re leaving.”
“Don’t let her proposition you.” Dylan cupped her mouth, yelling to him. “She made out with, like, four guys from our grade this year alone. Never know what she’s carrying.”
I kicked her ribs lightly, a smile on my face. A sharp stab of guilt sliced my chest open. I hated lying to her. “Thanks, Row.”
Dylan lingered in the backyard, working on her tan and flipping through a magazine.
“Wait in the living room,” Row instructed, shouldering past me on his way up the stairs. I followed him with my eyes, waiting for the faint sound of the shower to hit my ears, accompanied by the whining of the rusty pipes behind the walls. I took the stairs up to his room on my tippy toes. I wanted to get a glimpse of Row’s universe uninterrupted, something I’d never had a chance to do before. I didn’t feel too bad about snooping. Row never had given a crap about privacy.
Once I entered the room, I breathed as shallowly as I could without losing consciousness to mask my presence there. I didn’t know why I was feeling so self-conscious all of a sudden. It wasn’t like I had a chance with him. Dude had fished chicken nuggets and queso from my hair when I’d drunk-vomited into his toilet in the middle of the night two years ago, after Dylan and I had stolen their dad’s vodka and gotten shit-faced. He’d once caught Dylan popping a zit the size of Montana on my chin. There was no allure or mystery where I was concerned.