Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
He took it, studying my face, and let his hand drop to his side.
I patted him lightly, then moved to where Imogen was pacing back and forth.
“How long are they extending it?” I heard her as I walked up.
When she paused in her pacing, sensing my nearness, I indicated Davis.
“Taking him up to my place.”
Her eyes widened.
I grinned, knowing I’d surprised her by saying ‘my place.’
Maybe she hadn’t realized I was her neighbor.
I sure as hell had noticed she was mine, though.
Do you know how hard it is to witness a beautiful pixie lugging groceries in and not offering my assistance?
Let me tell you, it’s nearly impossible.
I’d watched her through my peephole, my hands clenched into fists, as I listened through the flimsy door as her and, who I guessed was her sister, fought over who was carrying the most bags.
Then they’d had to drop them at the door because they were too heavy after having carried them up two flights of stairs.
“I’ll leave the door open.”
Before she could deny me, I left, barreling straight toward the front door.
Davis fell in step behind me, and stayed with me until I pushed open the door to my apartment.
“Do you like to read?” Davis asked quietly the moment he stepped inside.
I looked around at my surroundings.
There were books…everywhere.
On the shelves I’d put up. On the floor stacked beside the shelves. On the nightstand next to my bed, which you could see from the front doorway. Lining my counters.
They were literally everywhere.
I liked reading.
In fact, in the years that I’d been in the military, followed by the seven years I liked to call ‘hell’, I needed books to get through.
My wife had been a huge bitch. Imagine your worst nightmare, then add on a couple more levels of annoyance, and that was my ex-wife.
I’d gotten good at reading and ignoring life around me.
It used to drive me insane, but when you had to deal with someone like Lynn, you learned to do what you had to do to protect yourself.
“Doesn’t everyone like to read?” I asked the kid.
Davis looked at me, his head cocked, and he shook his head.
“No,” he answered immediately. “Reading is boring.”
“Reading is something that’ll make you smarter in the long run,” I told him. “It’s probably boring to you because you haven’t found the right thing to read.”
Davis looked skeptical.
“You want to know what I’d read if I were you?” I asked him.
He blinked. “What?”
“Harry Potter or Percy Jackson,” I told him. “Two really good series’ that you’ll love.”
“Who’s that?” he pointed at a certain book with a dragon on it.
“That’s Eragon, and you likely won’t like reading this one yet. It’s a really long book, too.” I pointed to the other books in the series. “And you can’t just read the one. You read one, you’ll have to read them all.”
“I’ll work up to it,” he promised. “Can I read one of the ones you were talking about?”
I nodded and pulled Percy Jackson down.
“How old are you?” I asked him.
“Nine,” he answered instantly. “Almost nine and a quarter.”
I snorted.
“I think you should go for Percy Jackson first,” I told him. “If you enjoy it, then move on to Harry Potter, which is a little more advanced reading.”
I held out the book and nearly laughed when Davis got his first look at the cover.
“What happened?” he asked. “It looks like it’s been drowned.”
“I’m hard on books,” I shrugged. “The pages are still readable, though.”
Davis held the book very carefully. “If I break it, are you going to be mad at me?”
“No,” I answered honestly. “But you won’t break it.”
“Can I sit on your couch?” he asked, looking at me.
“Knock yourself out.”
I nodded, picking up my own book once I’d put my groceries away, taking a seat across the room from the kid as I lost myself in my own book world.
And that’s how Imogen found us twenty minutes later.
“Uhhh,” Imogen interrupted hesitantly. “Are you ready to go eat dinner, Davis?”
Davis looked up from his book. “I’m not hungry.”
“Grandma finished dinner, though,” she said. “And you know you’ll be hungry in an hour if you don’t eat now.”
When the boy looked like he was about to argue, I cleared my throat, causing Davis to look at me in alarm.
“Take the book with you. Eat. Then read once you’ve had a shower,” I offered. “That’s the good thing about books. If you’re not reading them, you can reflect on what you’ve read so far. You can think about what happens next. It’s fun, I promise.”
Davis looked skeptical.
In the end, though, he sat up, waved his book at me, and disappeared out of my apartment and into his own.
The smell of fried chicken wafted out the door behind him, and my stomach growled.
“Would you like to come eat?” Imogen offered, standing hesitantly in the doorway.