Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74366 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74366 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
She finishes up the bowl, and spoons up every last drop of milk. Then she waits. Watches me finish my muesli with a gentle smile on her face.
We sit in silence a for moment, and there’s a feeling in me, a desperate urge to tell her she doesn’t have to go home to an empty house, where nobody really cares about her. To tell her I like her. To tell her I want to take care of her, the way I wanted to take care of Jane all those years ago.
To tell her the truth.
I tell her nothing, just put our empty bowls in the sink and gather her clothes from the laundry room. She takes them from my arms, tells me thanks, and I force out the words I need to say.
“We’d better be getting you home.”
Laine
The journey goes too quickly. The world zooms by outside the window and my heart thumps at the horror that this is it. Goodbye.
I really don’t want this to be goodbye.
My palms are hot and clammy, and my fingers are fidgety. They twiddle around and around as I try to think of a way to make this last.
I just want to see him again.
My emotions are churned into a big messy ball in my stomach. It feels weird, uncomfortable, these feelings for Nick twisting and turning, so confused. I felt so safe in Jane’s room, cocooned in this floaty bubble, like cotton candy at a spring fair. I felt so safe there, so safe in Nick’s house, that I wanted to be Jane.
And I still want to be Jane now.
But I watched him. I watched him in the shower. I watched him and I liked it. I thought about him touching me and I liked that too.
I like him.
I like him like that.
The combination feels icky. Weird.
Fluttery and weird.
I can’t straighten it out and it won’t go away, so I just keep staring out of the window and praying he’ll let me see him again.
I can’t bear the thought of never seeing him again.
He asks me for directions to Kelly Anne’s house and I want to lie, tell him she lives far away, that I can’t remember how to even get there, but I don’t. I point him onto her estate in Newhaven, and he indicates onto her street.
I direct him into her parents’ driveway and hold my breath, scared he’ll say his goodbyes and disappear now I’m back on home turf. He doesn’t.
He puts the car in neutral and says he’ll wait for me.
I smile in relief.
“I’ll be right back,” I say. “Just a minute.”
He nods, smiles, and I fumble with the door handle, trip over my nervy limbs as I bundle out of the car. I pull my cardigan around myself as I ring her doorbell, and I can smell his lavender fabric conditioner. I love the way it smells.
It’s Kelly Anne’s mum who answers the door. She takes my arm and welcomes me in, yelling to Kelly Anne upstairs to announce my arrival.
“Go on up,” she says. “She’s still in her pit.”
“Thanks, Mrs Dean,” I say.
She tuts at me. “It’s Mary,” she says. “How many times do I have to tell you it’s Mary?” Her smile is kind and laced with that little bit of pity I’ve grown used to.
I smile back at her then make my way upstairs. Kelly Anne’s bedroom door is closed tight. I don’t bother knocking, just let myself in and navigate the trail of dirty laundry until I’m at her bed.
“Kelly Anne?”
She groans, rolls over, and sleepy eyes barely focus on me.
“Kelly Anne, it’s me.”
“Laine? What are you doing here? What time is it?” She gropes for the phone on her bedside cabinet, checks the time and groans again. “Urgh, not even midday.”
“You took my keys!” I snap, and all the fear from last night comes rushing back. “My phone, too! My purse and my ID! I was stuck out all night!”
She comes to her senses, props herself up on her elbow with a confused expression on her face. “What?”
I shake my head. “Jeez, Kels. You took everything! It was all in your bag!”
She raises her eyebrows. “No,” she says. “It wasn’t. It totally wasn’t!”
I feel my jaw hit the floor, gawping as she roots around the floor for her handbag. She pulls out the contents. Lipstick and condoms and a load of crumpled receipts.
“But where…” I stammer. “What…”
“On the table!” she said. “You were in the toilet. I left your stuff right on the table for you! I even scribbled a note on a beer mat!”
“But there wasn’t…” I think back to last night. To the horror of returning to my seat to find it occupied by other people, no Kelly Anne in sight. No Kelly Anne in the whole club.
“I left it with those guys…” she continues. “The ones we downed a shot with at the bar… they were right there, at the table next to ours…”