Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Need me to mend any of your clothes? We could barter.”
I smirk over my bite of the sandwich before mumbling, “Sex for sewing on a button? I can’t be the only guy who’s willing to fuck you.”
“Screw you, Odell.” She rolls her eyes.
I chuckle.
“You’re easy, Milo. Uncomplicated. And can I say good in bed without it going to your head?”
“Too late.” I take another bite and chew it several times. “It’s already gone to my head.”
My phone vibrates on the counter. Before I can stand and grab it, Rae jumps up. “Is it your boss? Or your fiancée calling you for the first time?” She snags my phone.
“I’m sure it’s something to do with my car’s extended warranty,” I mutter.
Rae giggles. “Oh … it’s Indie. Why is she calling you? I’ve got this.”
“No—” I reach for the phone just as she turns away.
“Hey, Indie. How the heck are you? It’s Rae.”
“Rae …” I set my plate on the counter and hold out my hand. “Give me the phone.”
“Oh, he’s right here. How’s school? What are your plans after graduation?”
“Jesus Christ, Rae … give me the fucking phone.” I rip it from her hand.
Her head jerks backward while she shoots me a grimace of disbelief. “What the hell? I was just kidding.”
I hold the phone at my side for a second, releasing a long breath. “Sorry. I’m not in the mood to kid around.” I nod toward the door. “It’s late.”
She blinks a few times before nodding. “O-kay … Wow.” Snagging her bag from the sofa, she walks back toward the door, shaking her head and wearing a look of complete confusion. “Bye.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
When the door clicks shut behind her, I bring the phone to my ear. “Hey. Sorry about that.”
“It’s … um … why is Rae at your place?”
“She’s not. She just left.”
Indie tries to laugh, but it sounds tight and forced. “Okay. Sorry. Why was Rae at your place?”
I collapse onto the sofa and run a hand through my hair. “She stopped by to visit, I guess.” If I say she stopped by to ask me about Jolene, it will make Indie even more uneasy.
“Visit?”
“Yeah.”
“The woman you were screwing still stops by to visit?”
“She’s a friend.”
“Like I’m your friend?”
“No. Fuck … just …” Another heavy sigh makes its way past my lips. “Indie … can we not talk about Rae or Jolene or the past or anything beyond right now? Can you just tell me about your day or what you’re wearing or studying or watching on Netflix? Literally, anything that’s not my fucked-up life?”
She says nothing for what feels like forever, magnifying how much I depend on her to anchor me to something resembling sanity in my life.
“Dahmer. I’m watching the Jeffrey Dahmer story on Netflix. I’m studying AP Bio. My day was shitty until I heard your voice. And I’m wearing a black Twilight tee and ripped jeans.”
Lying on my side, I keep the phone pressed to my ear and close my eyes. “Mmm … keep going.”
There’s another long pause. I know she’s working through everything in that beautiful head of hers. I’ve seen her do it so many times. Ruthie used to take her time before answering people’s questions, always offering a calculated response. I don’t think Indie knows how many learned behaviors she has because of Ruthie.
“My roommate’s boyfriend broke up with her, so she’s in the corner of the room with soundproof headphones and a pint of cookie dough ice cream hugged to her chest. And I found a date for the wedding.”
Fuck my life …
I open my eyes.
“A friend’s brother. He’ll be home from college. We’ve texted a few times. He’s pre-law. I almost didn’t ask him because I officially hate lawyers since that’s the profession of your future wife.”
She just pissed all over my night. Do I deserve it? Probably.
“I’m worried about you. Why Dahmer? There are a million other shows to watch that won’t give you nightmares.”
“His name is Judah … like son of Jacob. He has one more year before he graduates. He wants to be a judge. And he’s willing to wear a tie that matches my ugly-as-fuck green dress. Isn’t that wonderful of him?”
Sitting up straight, I scrub a hand over my face. “AP Bio, huh? I never took any smart classes like that. Maybe that’s why I didn’t graduate.”
“Just because the dress is ugly-as-fuck green doesn’t mean I can’t wear something sexy under it. It’s the least I can do for a guy willing to buy a matching tie that he will never wear again.”
“Christ, Indie … what are you doing?”
“I’m having dinner with my fuck buddy. I’m marrying a woman I don’t love. I’m an obedient little dog to a real son of a bitch. Oh wait … that’s you, not me. What am I doing? I’m hitting back. I’m trying to give you a tiny fraction of the pain you’ve given me.”