Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
I’m still thinking about it later in the day, after my last class. It’s completely foreign and probably dangerous as hell, but I almost feel hopeful when I spot Carter coming my way. “Ready to go home?” I ask. For once, I don’t dread it. Yet another miracle.
“Actually, no,” he replies with a frown.
There goes my heart, sinking as usual. “Oh.” He always has to keep me on my toes, doesn’t he? “I guess I could get an Uber, unless you think you could drop me off.”
His laughter is gentle. Not the snide, nasty laughter I’m so used to hearing from him and everybody else in my life. “I was thinking maybe we could get an early dinner. I know it’s not even five o’clock, but I don’t think I feel like eating macaroni and cheese again tonight, and it’s all I know how to cook.”
Something about his simple earnestness makes me laugh along with him. “Yeah, that would be nice. Even though I loved that mac and cheese.” It was surprisingly good.
Walking next to me out of the building, he jokes, “Yeah, you loved it so much you went into a carb coma. I guess I wouldn’t make a very good chef. All of my customers would fall asleep at the table.”
Why can’t he always be like this? He’s in a good mood, he’s charming, he’s just a normal person. There’s no anger or resentment, no acting like a big, bad man, so I’ll be afraid of him or intimidated by him.
He’s just… Carter. And I like Carter.
Maybe I need to have my head examined or something.
“What’s so funny?” he asks once he joins me in the truck.
I didn’t even realize I was grinning. “Nothing. I guess I’m just in a good mood.”
The way he smiles at that makes my mood even better. Jesus, what is happening here? How did things change so quickly?
All I know is, it’s not long before I’m sitting across from him at a table in the middle of the same Mexican restaurant where we had lunch with Mom and Paul before they left on their weekend trip. Before the fateful party. The night everything changed.
“Amazing,” I muse, dragging a chip through a bowl of fresh salsa. “It’s so much easier to enjoy the food when I’m not biting my tongue off. Mom really loves her margaritas.”
“And she makes it everybody else’s problem.” Something about the way he says it makes me laugh, and that’s refreshing after spending so many years being embarrassed by her. Having to hold everything inside, silently withering.
When I look up from the salsa, I can’t help noticing the way his attention has drifted over to a table close to where we’re sitting. I follow the direction of his gaze out of curiosity more than anything else and wish I hadn’t when I see a pair of girls giggling over their guacamole. They’re around our age from the looks of it.
Their shiny, blond blowouts make me touch a hand to my own hair. It looked pretty the day of the wedding, but it also took a ton of work from the stylist. Do other girls wake up at four in the morning to have enough time to look that nice? I literally can’t imagine putting that much work into it.
But when I see the way Carter watches them, it’s enough to make me wonder. Maybe the work would be worth it.
With a frustrated sigh, I roll up my sleeves again since they’ve already fallen down to my wrists and are getting in the way of me demolishing the salsa. I can’t help but glance over at those girls again. Their cute sundresses are basically the opposite of what I’m wrapped up in. They don’t have to worry about their sleeves dragging in a bowl. They’re probably not as warm as I am, either. I can’t blame it all on the spicy peppers.
“You okay?” Carter must have noticed me noticing them. He looks curious, but also a little concerned. I’m not used to people being concerned about me. It’s a little unnerving.
“Oh, sure. I’m fine.” I’m just sweating my ass off, that’s all. No biggie.
“I’ve gotta ask. Only because you seem pretty uncomfortable right now.” He reaches over the table to tug on my sleeve. “Why do you feel like you have to cover up so much? You must be dying in this thing.”
“I’m used to it.” And that’s true. I don’t really think about it anymore. At least, I only think about it when I’m in a situation like this. Comparing myself to the other girls, wishing I could have their confidence.
“You know, I am nobody’s idea of a wise leader or whatever.” He waves a tortilla chip, scoffing. “But I did hear something a long time ago that’s stuck with me. I think it kind of applies here.”