Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
The Xs.
Had the Xs been too much?
We weren't, you know, super close friends. Certainly not hugging friends.
Did he see them and automatically assume I was letting my fantasies run away with me, that I was getting clingy, that I was mistaking his general humanity for something deeper, some expression of romantic feelings toward me?
A part of me balked.
Like I would ever think he would be interested in me.
But, then again, nerdy, shut-in, insecure girls on Catfish were one-hundred-percent certain that some jet setting male model was completely in love with them, just didn't have a phone with a camera.
So... alright.
Maybe some women were delusional.
And it made some men think all of us were.
And maybe Cam thought I was.
That I had concocted ideas in my head about us being together.
Had I maybe let my mind go there in quiet moments right before sleep? Yes. I was weak when I was tired. I was needy and hadn't known male attention in so long. It was lovely to imagine that a man as beautiful as he would even spare me a glance, let alone give me his full, undivided attention in a more than friendly way.
But did I let that show in our conversations? God, no. That opened me up to rejection, humiliation.
I was friendly and open. As open as I could be, anyway. So was he. That was all there was to it.
But maybe he was overthinking it.
Like I was overthinking it.
My belly twisted at the idea of silence. At being utterly alone again in the world.
I also recognized, though, that there was nothing I could do about it. If he saw it, if he freaked out about it, it was done.
I tossed and turned in bed for hours before pure exhaustion pulled me into unconsciousness.
I woke up late, fumbling and unfocused, mind an empty nothing until I had the coffee brewing, taking a deep breath as it dripped.
It all rushed back then.
The crying over Chinese food.
The Xs.
I rushed for my phone, but found nothing.
On the whiteboard outside my door, my handwriting was still there from the night before.
He would have left a 'You're welcome' or 'Don't mention it.' If things were normal. If nothing was amiss.
I pulled my sleeve down over my hand, swiping violently at the offending letters, wishing there was some way to reach out to him without it seeming like I was doing so.
Something like - Hey, Cam. The postman put a couple of your letters in my mail slot. Do you want me to tuck them under your door, or hold onto them for you?
But Cam, like me, never got any mail outside of adverts.
I moped around my apartment the rest of the day, eating Chinese food, writing down a grocery list, trying not to keep checking my phone despite having the volume on high, knowing I wouldn't have missed an incoming text.
It was almost nine at night before my phone dinged. I hate admitting this, but my belly sank as my heart soared, an altogether off-putting sensation as I sent my phone flying off the counter in my urgency to grab it.
But it wasn't from Cam.
Hey, Annie. This is Marie. I got your number from Annabeth. I need a last-minute weekend dog sitter. I was wondering if you would be interested in spending a couple days with my bundle of joy?
Attached was a picture of an utterly lovable Golden Retriever.
My initial internal voice shouted No.
It was quickly replaced with a more resolute, rational one, though. One that said it wasn't healthy to sit around and wait for a text that might never come from a man I was going to need to leave behind sooner rather than later anyway. And that there was no way I could pass up on the chunk of money I would get for that particular service. When your income was as dependent on people's whims as mine was, there was no good reason to pass up on one-hundred-fifty bucks.
I typed out a reply before that other voice could form a proper protest, working through the details in a matter of minutes.
Before bed, I was packing up a bag, ready to head over first thing in the morning.
--
I should have been enjoying the vacation.
It could hardly even be considered a job.
Marie and Bentley lived in a luxury high-rise that overlooked the Navesink River. The entire living room had breathtaking views. The bathtub that Marie had invited me to use as liberally as I wished was deep enough to sink in up to my nose and flanked with all sorts of luxury salts and bombs that smelled of absolute heaven. The fridge was loaded with all the kinds of foods I could never afford.
Please, help yourself to anything in there. I don't want it to go to waste while I am away.
The bed was like curling up on an actual cloud. Bentley was the most loving, even-tempered dog I had ever encountered. Marie had even left a fund for doggy treats as well as her season pass to access the beach should I want to visit.