Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
I swiped my clammy palms on my knees and stared helplessly out the window as we whizzed through traffic. “Yeah, she’s amazing and terrible at the same time and—if you make a right at Green Street and another right, we can make it with a minute to spare.”
“Food, Christopher…food. We can either go to that burger joint on Lake or swing by my parents’ house and raid the fridge. Mom told me she made spaghetti last night.”
I licked my lips nervously. “Oh, my God.”
“Trust me on this one…her pasta is freaking legendary. What sounds better to you? A burger or—” He slowed at a red light and glanced sideways at me. “Hey, no hyperventilating. Give me your hand.”
“I can’t. It’s shaking. Missing one class is bad, missing two is…” I rubbed my shoulder to ease the growing tension. “I’m not comfortable with this.”
“I can see that.” He traced my jawline tenderly and tilted my chin toward him. “Take a deep breath. That’s good. Listen, I’ll email my professors with an excuse if it makes you feel better. And I won’t mention anything about drinking scotch with Gran.”
“You didn’t drink anything.” I mumbled something under my breath about bad influences.
Simon chuckled. I felt the warmth of his smile before he refocused on the traffic, dropping his hand and lacing his fingers with mine.
“She’s a great influence. And honestly, I needed a mental health reminder. Sometimes you need to take a few hours away from your regularly scheduled day to regain your sense of perspective. Trust me, you’d be doing me a huge favor if you ate my mom’s spaghetti and just hung out with me for a while. You can tell me about black holes in outer space and other myths.”
“Black holes are not a myth,” I assured him haughtily, twisting to face him. “They’re the most intense gravitational mass known to man. Nothing can escape them. No particles, no light, nothing. And for your information, there are four types of black holes, and they’re found all across the universe.”
“You don’t say.” Simon squeezed my fingers affectionately and urged me to continue.
He hummed occasionally to let me know he was listening, but he didn’t take his eyes from the road and he didn’t let go of my hand. I talked because cold facts had always comforted me.
But it was him this time. The sound of his voice, the feel of his strong hand in mine. And there was something empowering in knowing he felt the same about me. Like he needed scientific static to drown out his doubts and worries. It was a curious balance and not one I fully understood. I just knew that we each had something the other needed.
That was enough for now.
We ate reheated spaghetti at the round wooden table in his parents’ kitchen and chatted about neighborhood friends, elementary school teachers we remembered, and contests we won as kids.
“I was on the math team from fourth grade on. We won the state championship a couple of years in a row,” I shared conversationally.
“Damn. I won a spelling bee once. Does that count?”
I grinned. “What was the winning word?”
“Insouciant. I will never forget how to spell it, but I’m still not sure what it means,” he huffed.
“A casual lack of concern. Indifference.”
His eyes sparked with humor. “Ah, my insouciance upsets you.”
I pushed my plate away and crossed my arms. “Not as much as being late upsets me. I get a horrible sick feeling in my stomach when the clock ticks down the minutes and I’m nowhere near where I’m supposed to be.”
“And where are you supposed to be? Who are you supposed to be? Who gets to choose that? If you’re always obeying other people’s rules, you miss out on your own life.” He gathered our plates and took them to the sink.
I sensed he was talking to himself rather than imparting wisdom. I nodded solemnly, helping him load the dishwasher and wipe the counter before glancing around the large family-style kitchen. The wide array of pans hanging above the professional-grade stove indicated the space was well-used.
“I like this house. I haven’t been here in a while. Your mom had us over for dinner a couple of months ago. She made scallops and steak.”
“She’s a great cook,” he replied affectionately.
I grinned. “You told me she cooked great guacamole the first time I met you.”
“I did? And you probably told me guac isn’t cooked, it’s…”
“Assembled,” we said in unison.
We chuckled at our timing, then stared at each other for a long moment till Simon held his hand out and beckoned me to follow him.
Simon
I led Topher upstairs to my old bedroom and flopped onto the mattress, pulling him with me. He wiggled out of my hold and stood.
“We’re not having sex here, Simon.”
“Sex? I would never suggest such a thing,” I lied. “But I do have a condom and lube, and I know for a fact that no one will be home for hours. Just throwin’ that out there.”