Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 47200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
I’m more than fucking happy right now.
“I didn’t think you were leading me on, and I didn’t mean to be so forward,” I remark, taking a stool by the counter and settling myself onto it.
I watch her pace the kitchen, studying her youthful features while she grapples with something in her mind.
Hoping it hasn’t changed in the last few seconds.
“What’s wrong?” I finally have to ask.
She shakes her head and flashes me a smile.
“Nothing’s wrong, silly. I just need to process this,” she says, crimping her mouth and pacing again.
And as soon as I think it must be about her dad as well as me, I feel my cell buzzing in my back pocket.
I know it's Steve somehow, so I know I have to take this call.
May’s taking some deep breaths, but at least she’s stopped pacing.
I’ve heard of girls swooning from a kiss, but she looks like something’s come loose.
Clearing my throat before I answer, I watch May stiffen up again, tense.
She knows who it is as well as I do, and his timing seems to be as lousy as it is consistent.
“Hey, Steve,” I answer, trying not to sound too upbeat.
I can hear he’s calling from his car, probably still driving to the shop.
“B? Look, man, I’m sorry I acted like a jerk earlier. I guess I’m the one who needs a nap, but I can’t afford the time right now,” he chuckles but still sounds like he means it.
Steve’s always worn his heart on his sleeve. And I feel a stab of pride as well as guilt in my gut as I listen to his honest apology.
Even though I know already that we’re both gonna be sorry soon enough, I’ll take whatever he dishes out once he finds out.
And until then?
Well, until further notice from May, I think it’s best we keep our little secret a little more secret for a little longer.
“You don’t have to apologize, buddy,” I console him. “When do you finish again?” I ask, already calculating the potential hours' May and I have left to be alone.
More time to take things slower? Hmmm, maybe, but maybe not.
“That’s why I’m calling,” Steve says, loudly talking as I hear him shifting gears up and down in his truck.
“Dinner’s booked for seven, so plenty of time. But I wanted to see you, buddy. How ‘bout swinging by the shop before then? We can grab a bite for lunch and shoot the breeze for a bit,” he says, sounding matter of fact.
Steve knows that I’ve never had a problem with lunch, dinner, or food in general at any time of the day.
“Sure,” I hear myself saying automatically, but looking over at May, I realize maybe Steve means just him and me for now.
“I’ll get May to drive us down in a bit,” I suggest, but Steve’s quick to shut that down.
“May?” he asks, taken aback but nowhere near as suspicious as he was earlier.
“I don’t think she’s gonna want to hang around with her Dad and his old buddy all day, do you?” he quips and laughs at his own statement.
“But she’s coming to dinner, though, right?” I have to ask. May shoots me a look of concern, her brow knitted when I frown over at her.
I’m certain that Steve said we’re all going to dinner.
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says absently. “I just figured I owed you a better welcome than you got this morning. But, I’ll be honest, I don’t know what I was thinking. Crazy Dad stuff, I guess. But anyway. Look, borrow May’s car, and I’ll see ya in a few, yeah?” he asks.
He’s making me feel like we’re kids again. Telling me what to do even though I’m twice his size. The things we got up to…the things Steve dared me to do. It’s a miracle either of us made it through childhood.
“Sure. See you in a bit,” I tell him dryly, hanging up and expecting May to pout. She twists her mouth instead.
Deep in thought again.
“Your Dad wants me to catch up for lunch,” I explain, which doesn’t bother her until I tell her he wants it just him and me for lunch.
“Oh. Okay then,” May says, raising her brows. “But we’re still all going out for dinner, right?” she asks, and I tell her yes.
“Of course. I think your Dad just feels bad for earlier,” I reason aloud.
May clicks her tongue, noticing the remainder of the coffee spilled earlier.
“I should really clean that up,” she says to herself, and snapping into what looks like housework mode, she starts to busy herself cleaning up again.
And it occurs to me that May might be the type of girl to busy herself like this when she’s a little hurt or upset about something.
Like missing out on lunch with me, and right after we just made it clear we’d probably both rather be eating each other instead of a sandwich.