Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 84928 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84928 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
"Augh!" I growled, pulling the blanket up over my head and willing myself to stop thinking about Johnnie Walker Allen at all.
--
The next day, I went to work. I stayed late, pretending I had too much work to do, but honestly just doing so to avoid confronting my empty apartment. See, I realized something not sleeping again the night before, something that settled with a bitter taste on my tongue: I was lonely. I was bone-deep lonely. And, true, the lonely had always been a part of me, since I was a little girl, since my life fell apart. I kept people away with my thorns, a defense mechanism that Johnnie had spotted within minutes of knowing me. I did this because I learned how dangerous it was to let people in, to let them become important. Because if I had learned anything in my life, it was that people you loved went away eventually. And the space they vacated, it could never be filled.
That's what I was doing when I moved to Alabama: I was running away from people I had started to get too attached to, my old roommate, my classmates in college. Everyone. They started to mean too much. So at twenty-three, I packed my stuff, I left a note, and I took off. I landed in Alabama because that was where my crummy car finally coughed and sputtered and died. Luckily for me, there was a chance to build a life and career even in such a small town. So that was what I did. And I learned my lesson; I didn't get close with anyone.
Until Ben.
Ben worked at it. He talked to me at the mailbox; he engaged me in conversation on the balcony on the weekends; he invited me over when his 'eyes were bigger than his stomach' and he 'bought too much pizza'. The well of loneliness in him was as deep as the one in me. We'd connected. And he was every bit of a recluse as I was. He was safe. So I let him in. He helped fill the void a little.
Then he was gone. And not only was I dealing with his loss, I was becoming reacquainted with the hollowness inside.
And in walks Johnnie right when the misery felt too much to bear. He helped fill in the void in a smaller capacity than his father.
Now that was gone too.
I was alone as alone could get, with just Luis and his unwanted attentions to keep me company.
Maybe it was time to move on again. Maybe I was done with Alabama. Maybe it was time to try the midwest or California. Maybe I needed to get lost in the snow-capped mountains of Vermont. Maybe it was time for a change.
I walked back to my apartment, sorting through my mail so I didn't see him until I heard him. "Good evening, darling."
My head snapped up and there was Luis, leaning against my door in cream slacks (yes, cream) and a lightweight blue shirt. Everything about how he carried himself and dressed was out of place. Why he was living there was completely beyond me. It didn't seem to suit him.
"Hey Luis," I said, not even bothering to hide the displeasure in my tone.
"I brought wine," he said and, sure enough, there was a bottle of red in his hands.
Great. Just wonderful.
"Just twenty minutes, Amelia. I won't keep you from your plans."
Right, my plans. If eating a frozen pizza and re-grouting my tub counted as plans.
"Fine," I said, unlocking my door and letting him inside.
He closed it behind him as I made my way to the kitchen for glasses. I didn't own any wine ones, but I had nice glass tumblers at least. "You added locks," Luis observed and I looked up to see him inspecting the locks. "Were the ones installed not working properly?"
Gosh, he was so weird. I put the tumblers at the end of the counter and went in search for a corkscrew. "Ben installed them. He said it wasn't right for a woman living alone to rely on doorknob locks and a chain or something like that. He insisted on putting on some deadbolts."
"Two of them," Luis observed, making his way toward me and reaching for the corkscrew I was holding out to him. I hoped my message was clear: let's get this over with.
"He said you could never be too safe."
"Indeed," Luis said, jerking his head toward the sliding door to the balcony where I had a metal pole in the track, keeping it from being able to be pulled open.
"I'm not from around here," I shrugged. "It's not weird to me. I think it's weirder that no one else locks their doors than that I have multiple locks."
"Good point," he said, pouring the wine into the glasses. When I went to reach for mine, he brushed my hand away. "Let it breathe," he said in a tone that made me feel like a scolded child. "You know, I'm not from around here either."
Well then. There was my opening. "I know," I said, trying to soften my tone into friendly interest. "Where are you from originally?"
"New York. Then I spent some time in Boston, Austen, Miami, Raleigh."
"Big traveler."
"Business," he said, waving it off. I nodded, unsure where to go from there. Luis grabbed both glasses and moved toward the living room and sat down on my couch. I followed, choosing the opposite couch, not wanting him to get any ideas, and reaching for my glass. "You have an eye for interior decorating," he said and I felt the compliment lighten my mood slightly. "Normally, I wouldn't think this... lilac color would ever work, but you have somehow made it happen."
"Thank you," I said, sipping the wine, the flavor exploding across my taste buds in a way that only expensive wine could do.
"You've done some recent rearranging," he said.
"What? Like the furniture?" I asked, confused.
"Yes."
"No," I said, shaking my head. I hadn't moved anything since I got it the way I liked it... a year ago.