Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
“No. I mean, I’m sure you’re capable but you’re not touching my underwear and stuff.”
“I’ve been inside of you. I don’t think touching your underwear is encroaching on your privacy.”
And just like that, things are weird. I blush. I actually feel my face turn red. I glance into the washer and watch the water pour in and wonder if this weirdness is all me or if he felt it too, but I don’t want to look at his face to find out.
“Chloe.” He says my name softly, but I can still hear it over the rushing water. He says it carefully, his tone easy, and I lift my eyes to meet his. “This doesn’t have to be weird.”
Okay. So he felt it too. I exhale and nod.
“No?”
“No. Besides, these are just the towels.” Then he leans over me to reach the detergent. I stop breathing for a second when his body presses against mine. The memories of last weekend flash though my mind and I feel tingly all over. A moment later he’s stepped back, detergent bottle in hand, and I exhale and watch as he measures the liquid and dumps it into the machine then snaps the lid closed.
I just stand there and stare at him, not moving. He cocks an eyebrow and then places his hands on my shoulders and turns me around.
“Now lunch,” he says.
“Now lunch,” I agree. I pause at the top of the stairs and wave at the windows. “This must be amazing at night,” I say and then cringe. Holy cow, did that sound like I was inviting myself to stay? “I mean, I can imagine that it does,” I add and then shake my head and jog down the steps. “Hey, do you know why Adele crossed the road?”
“Nope.”
“To say hello from the other side.”
We reach the bottom of the steps and I turn to look at him. He’s staring back at me with a dubious expression. “Come on, that one was good.”
“It was something,” he agrees. “What do you want for lunch?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “A sandwich?”
“Then I’ve got just the place.”
***
We leave his place and head east on South Street to 5th then cut across Bainbridge to 4th Street. He offered to drive, but I opted for walking. It’ll be only too soon before the weather turns and makes walking miserable. It’s still nice for now, might as well take advantage of it.
“Thanks for helping me get the bookcase home,” I offer as we walk. I’m not sure why we’re still together. Why he wanted to have lunch, offered to let me do his laundry at his place.
“No problem. Gotta work off those favors I owe you, right?”
Favors? “How many favors do you owe me?”
“Two.”
“Two?”
“Yeah. It was three, but I paid one off with the bookcase. So two.”
“When did we decide you owed me three favors?” This guy totally does math like a government employee.
“Didn’t we?” He looks totally nonplussed with his bad accounting of favors. “We’re here.”
“The Famous 4th Street Delicatessen,” I read from the sign as Boyd holds the door. “I’ve never been here.”
“What? Chloe.” He shakes his head and makes a tsk sound. “What kind of a Philadelphian are you?”
“Well, I’m from Connecticut, so…”
“Weak excuse, Chloe. Weak.”
We get a table and Boyd orders two cream sodas. The place has a retro old-fashioned feel that makes it feel like it’s been there forever, which a glance at the menu tells me it just about has. ‘Since 1923’ is proudly printed on the front. I read through the menu and when the waitress comes we both place the same order—a turkey sandwich.
Then I stare at him for a while trying to determine what he wants.
And if I want to give it to him.
And then I start to panic a little. What if he wants to have an awkward conversation? Like more awkward than me? Or ask me about my sexual history? Or if I cheated on my third-grade spelling test in Mrs. Kallam’s class?
Okay, I admit that last one is a little specific and not likely to come up. But I’m still a little ashamed of myself for doing it.
“Would you rather eat stale pretzels or stale Cheetos?”
“What?” I look at him, not sure I heard him correctly. He tilts his head in a nod, like, ‘you heard me correctly,’ but repeats the question.
“Um, stale pretzels, I guess.”
“Go a week without the internet or a week without coffee?”
Oh, we’re playing the ‘would you rather’ game. “Internet.” I smile. “I think. Wait maybe the coffee? No, the internet.”
“Play Quidditch or use the invisibility cloak for a day?”
“You did not just Harry Potter me.”
“I did.”
“Well, I’m not sure that’s even answerable.” I shake my head and groan a little. “Who wouldn’t want to play Quidditch? But the invisibility cloak, wow.” I sigh, a dreamy expression on my face.