Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 769(@200wpm)___ 615(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 769(@200wpm)___ 615(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
“When I ran a shower for him, I felt like a total pervert because here was this beautiful kid who’d gotten in a car accident and all I could think about was how to get him out of that ugly suit. When he took his shirt off and I saw those tattoos, I was done for.”
Now I can tell Rex is really talking to me.
“You took my shirt off.”
“Whatever,” Rex says, smiling at me. “He got drunk on a couple shots of whiskey, and then paraded into the kitchen with my pants so close to falling off that I almost swallowed my tongue.”
“They were too big,” I say, elbowing him.
“I made him a sandwich and he told me a bunch of stuff about the job he was interviewing for. I thought, shit, this guy is smart and gorgeous. And, from what I saw with the dog, a sweetheart. But he clearly thought we were in the middle of nowhere, so I knew there was no way he’d ever be back.
“He let it slip that he was gay and I thought he was going to pass out. I could see how scared he was, but he just stared me down like he was daring me to have a problem with him being gay. It was… hot. So when he started freaking out, I couldn’t help myself. I kissed him. I knew I’d only get one chance, so I figured I may as well go for it when he was incapacitated with fear.”
He winks at me and I roll my eyes, but my memory of that kiss is still vivid.
“Then we were on the couch and he was all drunk and warm and adorable.”
Rex shakes his head.
“When he kissed me it was all I could do not to rip those damned sweatpants off and—um, you know. But he was drunk and he’d been in an accident and it wouldn’t’ve been right. It killed me to do it, since I knew I’d never see him again, but I went to bed and left him on the couch.
“The next morning, he was dead to the world, sacked out on the couch with my sweatpants practically falling off. Like he’d been put on that couch specifically to show me what I could never have. I banged around in the kitchen for a while, hoping he might wake up, but he was out.
“I had to take the dog to the vet before I went to work, so I left him there. I wanted to program my number into his phone. Get his number and put it into mine. Leave him a note saying if he ever came back through Michigan he should look me up. But it felt pathetic. In a day or two, the guy would be gone, back to Philadelphia or New York City or wherever, and he’d never be back.”
I can’t help but notice that Rex mentions New York, where Will moved, as well as Philly.
“And anyway, I didn’t want to leave a note—even one to say Take care, because I didn’t want him to think I was stupid and spelled everything wrong. Which I do.”
Rex trails off.
“Got home that night and he was gone. Spent the next few months cursing myself for not leaving my phone number. Or something. But then, just when I’d convinced myself I’d never see him again, there he was.”
“There you were,” I murmur, my eyes closing.
“Come on, you narcoleptic,” Ginger says, shaking me. “He always does this,” she says to Rex. “We’ll be listening to a record or something and he just conks out like a baby in a fucking car seat.”
“I know,” Rex says. “At first I thought he was constantly sleep deprived.”
“Nah, he’s just always keyed up. Then, when he finally relaxes, he just falls asleep before he even notices.”
Rex seems to contemplate this while Ginger takes the whiskey away from me and clears the trash from dinner.
“You guys take the bed,” Ginger says, and Rex immediately protests.
“Oh, stop,” she says. “I’ve slept on this couch a hundred times. It’s fine. No way are the two of you going to fit on it. Unless”—she waggles her eyebrows at Rex—“you want to ditch this sad sack and cuddle up with me.”
“Back off, bitch,” I say, smiling at her. “Thanks, Ginge.” I hug her and she squeezes me just like she always does.
“I’m sorry, babycakes,” she says.
I strip down to my boxers without thinking about it. Nothing Ginger hasn’t seen before. Rex seems uncharacteristically shy, and crawls under the covers before he takes his shirt off, like we’re in high school or a nineteenth-century novel or something.
Ginger’s bed is a safe place, and almost immediately after crawling under the covers, a warm lethargy creeps over me, relaxing me.
“Thank you for bringing me here. For being here with me, I mean,” I say to Rex softly. I can hear Ginger brushing her teeth in the bathroom.