Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“My uncle took care of my brother and me,” I explain, and it’s not until this very moment that I consider what might have happened to me and Cooper if Levi hadn’t been there. Funny how our lives teeter on these rails, riding the edge over a dark unknown. How easy it is to fall off. “Do you like your aunt? You two get along?”
A slight smile erases the gloom from his expression. “She’s nice. But she can be kind of a lot sometimes. She worries about me.” He sighs quietly. “She thinks I’m depressed.”
“Are you?”
“I don’t think so? I mean, I don’t really have many friends. Don’t like being around a lot of people. I’m just, I dunno, quiet.”
I get that. Sometimes things happen to us when we’re young, and we learn to stay inside ourselves. Especially when we don’t know how to talk about what’s going on in our heads. It doesn’t always mean anything or indicate a bout of depression. Being a teenager is hard enough without real shit getting in the way.
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” I tell Riley.
“Hey, boys.” Our waitress sets down a basket of hush puppies and dipping sauce, along with two tall glasses of water. “How we doing?” The brunette greets me with a wry smile and an arched brow that suggests I better prove I remember her.
Come on now. Give me a little credit here. “Hey, Rox. How’s things?”
At that she smiles, satisfied. “Another summer.”
“I hear ya.”
She gives the kid a once-over. “This guy giving you a hard time, sweetie?”
“No,” he says, grinning like he’s never seen a pair of fake tits before. “I’m fine.”
“Good. What’ll you have?”
Riley grabs his menu again and rushes to scan it front and back, realizing he hadn’t actually read it.
“What’s fresh?” I ask Rox.
“Grouper’s good. I’d get it Cajun style.”
I glance at Riley. “You like grouper?” It occurs to me he might feel weird about what he should order when some dude he only met today is paying. I would.
“Sure,” he says, looking almost relieved.
“Cool. We’ll do that.”
When she’s done taking our order, Riley takes a second to admire her retreating backside before leaning in toward me. “You know her?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Hey, Evan.” Another waitress saunters by. Cass, a short, cute blonde in a tank top she took a pair of scissors to, waves as she passes our table.
“You know a lot of girls here,” Riley remarks.
I swallow a laugh at how much he sounds like Mackenzie in that moment. Every time we walk into a place and a girl gives me a nod, Mac rolls her eyes. Like we didn’t meet because she was out helping her roommate hunt me down for a one-night stand.
“It’s a small town.”
“So you’ve, like, slept with all of them?”
Well, that’s more forward than I thought he was capable of. “To some extent or another, yeah, sure.”
I realize then his eyes aren’t wandering because he’s avoiding eye contact with me. As I track his attention around the room, it’s clear he’s checking out all the teenage tourists, the bored girls perusing their phones while their families sit around tables scarfing down nachos and inhaling two-dollar margaritas. Suddenly, I’m just hoping this kid doesn’t ask me to buy him condoms. Not that I wouldn’t, but I don’t need to get kicked out of another volunteer program because he goes home to tell his aunt I’m trying to get him laid.
“What about you?” I counter. “Got a girlfriend or anything?”
He shakes his head. “Girls think I’m weird. I don’t know how to talk to them.”
“You’re not weird,” I assure him. Yes, he’s shy, but he doesn’t give off any creep vibes. The kid just needs someone to build up his confidence. “Girls can be complicated. You just need to know the signs.”
“Signs?”
“When a girl likes you. When she wants you to come talk to her.”
“Like what?”
“Well, for one.” I scan the room and locate a hot redhead in her early twenties. She’s sitting with her girlfriends around a fishbowl of blue liquor with four straws. “When you catch each other’s attention and she smiles at you—that means she thinks you’re cute.”
Riley follows my gaze, his eyes glazing over slightly.
It takes less than two seconds for the redhead to notice me. A mischievous smile curves her full lips. I offer a faint half smile in return.
“Then what?” Riley sounds almost eager now.
“You go introduce yourself. Get her number.”
“But how?” he insists, mindlessly popping hush puppies in his mouth. “What do you say to them?”
Me, personally? Not much, really. But I can’t tell him to buy her a drink or ask if she wants a ride on his motorcycle. Once I had a driver’s license, all I had to do was ask a chick if her parents were home. But that’s neither here nor there. Riley is the sensitive type, I’d guess. He needs a different approach.