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)
“I’ll drive you,” I tell her. “Let me get a shirt.”
“A shirt would be good,” I hear her say behind me and I can’t help but grin, glad she can’t see my face. This girl is a mess of conflicting emotions, but good things come to those who wait. And Chloe is a good thing. A forever kind of thing.
Twenty
Chloe
“You cannot be serious.”
“I am.”
“You need another favor?” It’s two weeks after the Vail trip and a week since I saw him last—when I did laundry at his house. And other stuff. “Don’t you still owe me two favors?”
“So I’ll owe you three, which is a big deal. You could cash in three favors for one really big favor.”
Yes. Yes, my mind does instantly detour into the gutter.
“I don’t know,” I mumble.
“Chloe. I’m not even making this up. I really need your help.”
“What is it? I’m not getting on an airplane.”
“Meet me at the book store down the street. At 18th and Walnut.”
“The book store?” I ask, my voice dripping sarcasm. “Really, Boyd? Are you being serious right now or is this one of your weird come-on lines? ‘Oh, Chloe, I’ll do your laundry,’” I purr into the phone in a sexy voice. “‘Chloe, I have an emergency at the book store. Hurry,’” I add in the same tone. “Please, Boyd,” I finish, my voice back to snarky.
He laughs, his voice a throaty chuckle over the phone, and I can picture his smile as he does. I wonder if he shaved today or if he’s sporting the day-old scruff look. “No, this is legitimate. Hurry up.” Then he hangs up on me before I can object again.
What a weirdo.
But I put my shoes on all the same. And check my reflection in the bathroom mirror while I’m brushing my hair. And sure, I freshen my Chapstick and put on a little mascara. But I’d put on mascara for a run to Starbucks. It doesn’t mean anything.
I exit my building and head down Walnut. The book store is all of three blocks away so I’ll walk. I wonder what Boyd wants and why he is hanging out in a book store late on a Saturday afternoon. I am not having a quickie with him in the history section, if that’s what he’s thinking. Absolutely. Am not.
Less than fifteen minutes after he called I’m in the store. I don’t see him anywhere and I could text him and ask where he is, but I’m sorta curious about what he’s up to. So I’ll poke around a bit first and see if I can’t find him without alerting him that I’m here yet.
I almost miss him, because he’s not alone. I finally find him at a table at the in-store Starbucks. And he’s sitting with a boy who looks like he’s about nine or ten and what appears to be homework spread across the table.
“Hi,” I say and two sets of eyes flick up to meet mine.
“Yo, is this your girlfriend?” the kid asks, appraising me. “She’s hot.”
His girlfriend? Are we pretending again?
Boyd tilts his head at the kid and gives him a stern look. “Noah. We’ve been over this.”
The kid sighs, as if the weight of the world is on him, dramatically slumping and rolling his eyes before he sits up straight and looks me in the eyes. “Hello. I’m Noah. It’s nice to meet you.” He’s wearing a Philadelphia Eagles hoodie and his dark hair is disheveled, as if he’s been running his hands through it with no care for how it looks.
Then he stands and offers me his hand. I shake it as I reply, “Nice to meet you too, Noah. I’m Chloe.”
“You’re very pretty,” he adds, then glances back at Boyd. “Better?”
“Better.”
“So what’s going on here?” I ask when Boyd is done playing Miss Manners with Noah.
“New math. That’s what’s going on here.” Boyd indicates to an open textbook and papers spread across the table. “Something that schools refer to as Common Core but adults cannot comprehend.”
“It’s stupid!” Noah interjects. “I have a calculator on my phone. Why do I even need math?”
“Well,” I start as I slide into a chair and join them, “it’s important that you understand the basics, so that later you’ll have the foundation that’ll make it easier to learn more complicated math concepts.”
“But why can’t I just use the internet?” he asks me, expression sincere.
“Because math is about learning logic and critical thinking. Math teaches you life skills and quick thinking. It’s not just about calculating a number that you could look up. It’s about problem-solving.” I pull his paper closer to me and take a look. “So, tell me where you’re stuck.”
It takes us about a half hour to work through Noah’s math homework. He’s a smart kid, and once it’s explained to him in a way that he understands we zip through the assignment. Boyd stays the entire time, paying attention and telling Noah to focus a couple of times when he wants to give up. But I don’t understand what their relationship to each other is, and I realize it wasn’t offered when I arrived. When Noah starts to pack up his books my curiosity gets the best of me.