Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
I didn’t expect to hear anything from him until the next time he came home but . . . he texted. I try not to let it mean more than it does.
Me: You’re not crazy. You have a lot on your shoulders. It’s understandable that your anxiety would flare up.
Easton: It’s easier to manage it when you’re there.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Does he have any idea what words like this do to me? The hope they give?
Easton: Do you think your parents would let you finish high school in L.A.? I’d give you room and board in exchange for your chilling effect in my life.
Me: Oh, absolutely. Let me just go tell Dad. He’ll be totally cool with his only daughter moving to L.A. to live with and serve a pro football player.
Easton: Serve? Please don’t say it that way to your dad. I like my face as it is.
Me: Say it like what?
Easton: Like I’m buying sexual favors.
Me: I think we’ve established I’m not the girl for THAT job.
Easton: I’m saying I wouldn’t want to pay you.
Me: If you did, you’d demand a refund. Because, if you recall our conversation, I’m CLUELESS.
Easton: No. I don’t want to pay for your sexual favors for the same reason you don’t want a pity kiss.
My cheeks are on fire. Luckily, I’m alone in my bedroom and no one can see my awkward nerves at having this conversation with Easton. Is this a conversation, or is it . . . flirting? I stare at the screen while trying to decide how to reply. His next text comes through before I can.
Easton: Will you come see my new place when I get settled?
Yes! Yes! Yes! I don’t trust myself to reply. I’m trying to be cool, but my insides have zero chill when Easton is pouring on the attention like this.
Easton: I’m not sure how I’m supposed to start this new life without my rock to ground me when my crazy comes out.
Me: Talking to your doctor about a prescription might be a start. And you know I’m not joking.
Easton: I know. I just don’t want to need it.
Me: There’s no shame in it.
Easton: Thank you. For that. For everything.
I reread those words over and over, my heart swelling so big there’s no room for me to draw breath into my lungs. Maybe I’ll never have Easton the way I wish I could, but at least I have this. Whatever it is.
My brothers are lounging in the family room, barely awake and worshipping their coffee mugs, and the kitchen is clean, the counters sparkling. There’s no sign of the dirty cups and beer bottles I expected to find littering the main floor. Instead, the only evidence of last night’s celebration is the three black trash bags piled by the garage door.
“You all got to work early,” I say to the boys.
Jake rubs his eyes. “Not us. East felt bad about leaving us with the mess, so he cleaned before he left.”
“Nice.”
“Is it just me, or has he been acting weird since the draft?” Jake asks.
Carter squeezes his eyes shut. “He’s acting like he doesn’t want to go. Which is ridiculous.”
“It’s just a lot. I think he’s still processing,” I say.
Carter frowns at me. “Since when are you two besties?”
“We’re not besties. I’m just a good listener.”
Carter grunts and mumbles something about how I’d better be “listening and nothing more,” and my cheeks heat.
I don’t want to pay for your sexual favors for the same reason you don’t want a pity kiss.
Maybe that just means he doesn’t want to pay for sex. Maybe I’m being a naive girl with a crush to think it means he wants me.
Shay
December 31st, eight months later
Easton’s home.
I’ve never felt shy around him, but tonight I watch him play cards at the kitchen table with my brothers and feel weird about saying a simple hello. The sound of laughter and clinking of beer bottles fills my family’s vacation cabin. A fire roars in the living room. As far as New Year’s Eve parties go, this one is pretty tame. My brothers and a handful of their friends from school, Easton, and as of ten minutes ago . . . me. I’m standing just outside the kitchen, fidgeting with my purse, and wondering if I should have come at all. I don’t think anyone’s noticed I’m here. I’m sure Easton hasn’t, not when there’s a girl with big boobs, blond hair, and a tiny waist standing behind him and giggle-whispering in his ear.
I don’t know why the idea of being in the same room as him is making my heart race. I haven’t seen him since draft night, when he gave me my first shot of tequila and fell asleep next to me, but we text sometimes. Well, my brothers text him all the time, and I’m in that loop, but sometimes he checks in with me. A message on my eighteenth birthday, a check-in at midterms, a goofy story about a guy on his team. Nothing profound or incredibly meaningful, but every time I get a message from him that isn’t also sent to my brothers, hope swells so big in my chest that I can hardly breathe.