Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
I stumbled through the living room when the door suddenly opened.
It was Tru.
She was dressed in another hot-as-hell dress. I enjoyed the few seconds of looking until some idiot reached for her.
Nope.
Another guy offered her a beer.
Could she at least wear something that didn’t show off her perfect body? Her hair was so glossy I swore I could see my reflection in it. Her dress was white. It was classy, simple, yet so sexy. Parts of the middle of it were see-through but only right below her breasts. The bottom of the dress kissed her knees, and the top was strapless with a bit of a dip between her breasts. Simple and stunning.
Mine.
“Back off!” I roared, or maybe I slurred. I couldn’t really tell.
The guy in the blue—or was it green—shirt held up his hands and walked off while Tru just looked up at me and sighed. “You’re wasted.”
“You’re wasted!” I snapped.
Her eyebrows rose. “Oh? Then what’s the periodic table element for silver.”
I blinked. “We have chemistry.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Stop dressing like that.” I pointed my cup at her. “You look like a snack, which makes guys think they might have a chance at the whole meal.”
Tru let out a slow exhale. “No snacks. No appetizers. No meals. Not even a drink. I’m dry.”
“Nah, you’ve always been wet for me!” I didn’t mean to shout it, but we suddenly had everyone’s attention. “I mean, you know…”
Tru’s face fell. “Vaughan, stop talking.”
“Well, they should know, right? I mean, the history, our sordid past, how you left me, and the sex, oh yeah, the sex, so good. Tell them Tru, remember? Your name is Tru. Always tell the truth, good little…orphan girl.” That last part just slipped out. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like, I mean, I’m drunk, Tru—”
“Hey.” Brady grabbed my arm. “Let’s call it a night, man.”
I shoved him away. “Nah, it’s fine. Tru knows I didn’t mean it. Plus, I know what she looks like naked. We have no secrets, right True?” She did.
I didn’t.
The pain from the inside kept pouring out of my mouth like vomit. “Right?”
Tru started walking toward the stairs. I grabbed her by the arm.
“Let go.” Tears welled in her clear blue eyes. “Please, Vaughan. Please. I’m begging you. Please sober up. Please don’t say anything else. People are watching.”
“Let them watch.” I joked. “You never cared before, right? On the beach?”
I didn’t see it coming. The slap across the face, and what was worse, the tears streaming down her cheeks as she sniffed and slowly climbed the stairs.
Brady cursed next to me. “Fuck man, did you have to do it today of all days?”
I waved him off. “On a Saturday?”
Brady's face fell. “Nah, dude, on her fucking birthday, you ass.”
Her birthday.
Tru hated her birthday.
She never got anything on her birthday and shit.
Shit.
I tripped up the stairs, but the minute I got to her door, it was slammed in my face and locked. The loudest lock, actually, that I’d ever heard in my entire life.
So I sat in front of her door, and after the lights went out, I whispered under my breath, “Happy birthday.”
Then
“Make a wish,” I whispered. “And don’t make it shitty.”
Tru’s smile lit up the night sky. I’d only known her for months, but celebrating with her and enjoying her company felt natural. Things had gotten a bit more complicated after we returned to the city, so I wanted to do something special. I went big and rented out the rooftop restaurant. I hired a band that did old-school fifties jazz—badass, I know, and I made sure every one of her favorite foods was present. Earlier that day, I sent over a dress. I did the full Pretty Woman thing where she was pampered the entire day and didn’t want for anything.
“A wish,” she repeated and stared up at the stars. “When I was in foster care, I used to think it was stupid to wish for something that would never happen, but now I want it. I want to make it.”
I wrapped her up in my arms and rested my chin on her head. “What changed?”
She squeezed my folded arms. “You. You happened. You made me believe it was possible to be happy. You made me realize it's okay to do the most terrifying thing in the world.”
“Skydiving?”
She laughed and then sobered really fast like she was stuck in her own mind. “Hope. You made me hope, Van.”
I froze. The truth and intensity behind that one word sliced me into tiny little pieces, breaking my heart over and over again. I realized at that moment that she didn’t need the special food and she didn’t need the dress. She didn’t give a shit. Why would she? It wasn’t important.
I was.
She was.
It was us.
What she needed was one word and the follow-through behind it.