Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
No, scratch that, I still do.
I bring the car around front, thinking about all the times after school that I’ve wanted to throw Luci over my shoulder and drive away with her. I never imagined where to - just away - alone together, where we could be us, and where we wouldn’t be frowned upon.
Of course, I hated myself whenever I thought about it, like the sick pervert I was for wanting to do such things with a student, not to mention wanting to creepily capture her like some beast and hide her away in my non-existent castle.
At least she’s not my student anymore.
We’re quiet as I find my way off campus, which is a lot easier to do in the daytime than it was the other night.
“Is the temperature okay?” I finally break the silence, and when she doesn’t answer, I look over. Her hair is wild and messy; her skin pale and flawlessly clear. I always loved her with no makeup on. Her hands are balled in her lap, shaking, as her tearstained face looks out of the window, like she’s too fragile to move or speak. I almost run a stop sign, and she looks my way once the car stops unusually short.
“Sorry,” I muster an apologetic smile. I want to tell her that it’s going to be okay, but I can’t lie to her.
Without thinking, I raise my right arm, reaching out and run my hand through her thick hair. I hold my breath, because I don’t know if what I’m doing is okay.
Luci is always full of surprises, though, and I feel the weight of her head as she leans into my hand. My fingers lightly grab hold of her strands as my thumb grazes her upper neck. I feel her relax, and we drive the entire four hours back to New York just like this.
I can’t feel my right arm. I think it fell asleep around hour two, but she’s just so content that I don’t want to move it.
We drive through town, passing my apartment, the restaurant where we went to dinner, the school, and finally down a few more roads until I’m pulling onto her street.
She sits up, and looks over at me.
“You know the way?”
“I may have done some snooping around of my own in the past,” I smile, keeping my eyes on the road.
She doesn’t say anything, and when I look at her out of the corner of my eye, I see the side of her mouth turn up.
“Do you want help with your stuff?” I ask, pulling into her driveway.
“It’s okay,” she sighs. “I got it.”
I put the car in park and we sit for a minute, unmoving.
“You can do this,” I tell her, but she gives me a look of uncertainty.
“What’s the name of the place for your sister’s party? It’s tomorrow, right?”
“Oh no, Luci,” I shake my head. “I don’t expect you to still come.”
“You don’t want me to?” Her face falls.
“Of course I do!” I give her an encouraging smile. “More than anything, but I know you have more important things on your mind right now.”
She nods, but I don’t deny her. I give her the name of the country club anyway. “You don’t have a car here, so I can pick you up,” I offer. “Only if you want to, though, and I really understand if you don’t. Just text me.”
“Thanks,” she squeezes my hand, and I have to physically stop myself from reaching out and pulling her closer.
“You need to get out of the car now.” I let her go, but she still doesn’t move.
“Right,” she nods again.
When I look up, I spot Gracie, halfway down the walkway. Luci follows my stare, and that does it. Her eyes well up as she opens the door, running to meet her sister in a hug that almost knocks them both over.
I end up getting out of the car too. I unpack Luci’s things, leaving them at the end of the walkway, and Gracie gives me a small wave as I back out.
On Saturday, I don’t hear from Luci, and I don’t want to bother her. She’s obviously with her family, and while I’m disappointed, I understand. Still, it’s not pleasant being at this party, namely being around my parents and their friends. I can’t go a time without seeing them where they don’t leave it be that Holly and I divorced, because to them, we were a match made in heaven. To make matters worse, their friends keep apologizing, like my divorce was a bad thing, which is then followed by them letting me know they have a daughter I should meet.
My last five conversations have been like bookwork, and I can’t run away fast enough.
“Deb,” I catch her by the arm as she’s walking by. “Excuse me,” I smile at the ladies I was just talking to, passing between their gowns that are bigger than they are. “This is horrible,” I whisper.