Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
I’m really proud of my dad. How he finds time to volunteer in the community, work full time, and spend time with us, I’ll never know, but I do know he is an amazing guy.
A little too busy, but amazing.
“Oh Mamma, you know we’ll have no problem getting the door when the jocks arrive.” This comes from Jenna. My mom stands there and takes a long look at us before shaking her head.
“I don’t know about you two sometimes.” She laughs. “Have you eaten anything tonight, Jenna? I have leftover pot roast in the fridge.”
“Thanks, but I had pizza with Alex. Hey, did Molly happen to mention she had junk in her face at school today?”
“Jenna!” I yell, jumping up from the couch and pouncing on her. She is a giggling, hysterical mess as she tries to shove me off. “You loud mouth!” I feel a leg connect with my stomach and I roll to the floor. “I swear, one of these days I’m going to stuff a sock in your loud mouth.”
My mom crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. I can tell she’s trying to determine the validity of Jenna’s statement.
Apparently she decides we’re morons, because she just walks away.
This is how the next half hour of the night goes: Jenna and me hopping off the couches with each chime of the doorbell, kind of like trick-or-treat on Halloween night. Seeing the first few kids dressed up is always exciting and then…not so much. Then you spend the rest of your time waiting for the dawdlers so you can get on with your night.
First arrival, Dean Reynolds, a junior on the basketball team. Before we can even get to the door to let him in, Dean has his face pressed to the glass and is peering in.
What. A. Weirdo. Didn’t his mother teach him any manners?
I throw open the door unceremoniously.
“What’s up, Dean.” It’s more of a statement, less of a question.
“Not a whole lot, not a whole lot.” He looks around, nodding his head, taking in the foyer. “Start a new job this Thursday, so I guess I shouldn’t say nothing’s up, right? Right?” His voice elbows me in the ribs like, yuck-yuck, let’s share a chuckle—only I don’t chuckle.
Jenna does.
For real, Jenna?
Politely I ask, “Oh yeah, where at?”
“I’ll be flipping burgers at Bub’s Grill. The pay is shit, but I need a job that’s flexible with my practice schedule.” He shrugs.
“Yeah, I can imagine,” Jenna says. “You guys are having a great year. I’m surprised you even have a job.”
“My dad said he’d kick my ass if I sat around scratching my balls when I didn’t have practice, so it’s not like I had much of a choice.” Dean’s eyes are roaming around the room, and it looks like he’s casing the joint. Suddenly his phone beeps, and he immediately pulls it out like his life depends on it, flips it open, and begins texting.
Great. Weird and rude. What a pleasant combination.
We’re spared from any further conversation by the arrival of Kayla McQueen, volleyball star.
“Hey, guys!” She bounds in through the open door and greets us all enthusiastically. I stare at Dean and Kayla standing next to each other in the entry of my house. Wow, they’re tall. I mean, I’m no shorty myself, but they tower over me.
“Wow, you guys are both so tall,” I blurt out. Crap, why would I say that out loud?
“Duh.” This from Jenna. Remind me to thank her later for that.
Now things are just awkward.
“Okay, so…let me just take you down the hall to my dad’s office. He’s been waiting.” I lead them into my father’s office, to which he’s added an extra table and chairs in a temporary meeting spot. “Dad, first arrivals are here,” I announce. My dad gets up from behind his massive desk and walks over with his arm extended, greeting Dean and Kayla with a shake of the hand before turning to me.
“Thanks, sweetheart.” My dad puts his arm around me then. “I’m only waiting on the boys from the hockey team, so once they get here you’re off the hook.” He kisses the top of my head and shoos me on my way.
Wait, what?
The boys from the hockey team? Ugh, of course they’re going to be here. They play in the sports complex almost all year long; why didn’t this occur to me before?
Before I can let it sink in, the doorbell chimes again.
I race to the powder room in the hallway, flip on the light, and stare into the mirror to assess the day’s damage. After getting home from soccer practice, I didn’t give much thought to my appearance and tossed on gray Victoria’s Secret PINK sweatpants with a purple tank top. My hair is still damp from the shower I took over an hour ago, and of course I have not a drop of makeup on.