Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
It’s not unusual for him to bring up something so random, but I still raise my eyebrow in question, a characteristic I’ve clearly picked up from hanging around him so much, not that I’m complaining at all.
Honestly though, I forgot what he even asked for on the card.
“You wrote your life’s ambition is to be happy,” he reminds me.
“Well it is,” I remember now and he smiles.
“We’ve never talked about college,” he swallows, and I cringe. It’s only November, but it seems it’s all everyone talks about. I love that we’ve never discussed it, and I don’t want to start now.
“Where do you plan on applying?”
“Somewhere far,” I shrug, because it’s what I always say when someone asks. It’s what I’ve planned. That’s when it hits me, the fact that I have 8 more months to enjoy what’s turning out to be the best year of my life. And maybe, actually, I don’t want to go so far away after all, because I don’t want our lunches to end. I don’t want to not see him. What if I stay local next year? Could we still do this? Each lunch together and talk?
“Why far?” He casually takes another bite, while I’m over here, wincing over the fact that I’m so forlorn and pitiful.
“I… I… don’t know,” I’m stumbling over my words until I take a deep breath. “I wanted change,” I admit, letting the feeling sink in, coming to terms with the fact that I want anything but that now.
I know he briefly picks up on my use of past tense.
“I went to a SUNY,” he offers. “Just to spite my parents.”
“When?” My eyes dart to his, as his look becomes puzzled, no doubt ready to rein me in from crossing another blurred line.
“If this is you asking my age it’s a poor way of doing it,” he’s more cocky than irate, but I still feel a little stupid. When will I learn?
I say nothing and we continue eating in silence.
“27,” he finally offers, and I’m completely taken aback by his willingness to cross that boundary. The air is thick and his whole demeanor has changed.
“So maybe we should get this all out now,” I muse boldly, taking in his panicked look and quick intake of air. “Like… where do you live?” I continue joking, trying to lighten the mood. “Because I assume it’s the house with the periodic table mowed onto the front lawn.”
He cracks up and I let out a huge sigh of relief. He starts fiddling with his pocket and next thing I know, he’s throwing his license my way. I briefly look at his picture before tossing it back to him. I really don’t need to see all his actual info, like the huge creeper I actually am.
He’s an organ donor.
“Well, it’s only fair,” he sticks out his hand, waiting for mine. I lean into my bag and hand it over, rolling my eyes in the process.
“Why are you so mad?” He laughs, taking the piece of plastic from me. “Your picture is…. great!”
“Ugh, I swear there was a question on the written portion of that test that was so inaccurate and poorly written it’s not even funny!”
The way his laugh bellows causes me to blush. “That sounds like you,” he says through fits of laughter. “Still caught up on things that don’t matter.”
He clears his throat before changing the subject. “So what did you think of the movie?”
I wondered if he was going to bring up the fact that we saw each other over the weekend.
“Just wonderful,” I roll my eyes again.
“Wow,” he fakes shock, “do we actually agree on something when it comes to a movie?”
“Huh,” I bite my lip, hiding a smile. “I guess so.”
“So that kid wore you down?” He’s almost shy as he asks, a side of him I’ve never seen.
“Definitely not. My friend Hannah was also there,” I pause. “And I only picked the movie because of the explosion on the poster,” he finishes my sentence and we both laugh.
“What about you?” I inquire, knowing full well I’m overstepping the line yet again. “You don’t have to answer,” I hesitate nervously.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” he swallows just as the bell rings.
It’s after ten by the time Mom and Dad get home from open house. Dad followed Gracie’s schedule while Mom followed mine. I waited up just so I could hear all about it, jealous over the fact that she gets to see him tonight.
“Mr. Harrington is absolutely wonderful,” Mom gushes as I prod her for information. “And Mrs. Stalling says you’re working so hard. I’m really proud of you, Luci.”
I smile, thinking of how I can ask more about Mr. Harrington without making it obvious. “I’m doing better in chemistry too,” I add.
“I can’t imagine why,” she winks.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” My heart starts thumping, praying my cover isn’t blown.