Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
“I can’t believe you made a scarecrow father and hid him in your closet for years,” Chef said on another laugh, shaking her head and looking at Chloe as if seeing her for the first time. “What did your mom do when she finally found it?”
“Oh, what she thought was even worse,” Chloe said. “Arushi. Are you ready for this?” She paused, waiting, and then shook her head like she still couldn’t believe it herself. “My mother, bless her, swore that I’d made that damn scarecrow as a boyfriend — and that I was doing sinful things with a pair of overalls stuffed with straw.”
“No!” Chef covered her mouth as a peel of laughter slipped through. “Stop it, you’re kidding!”
“I wish I was. It was already mortifying as it was to admit that I wanted a father figure badly enough to stitch something so hideous together. But to then have my mother assume I was hiding some sort of pleasure doll?” Chloe rolled her eyes on a groan as Arushi burst into another fit of laughter. “I never recovered. Even now, I have hives under my hoodie just thinking about it.”
She shoved the sleeve of said hoodie up as if to illustrate, and Chef squeezed her wrist before wiping tears from her eyes.
Chloe looked beautiful.
She always did.
Tonight, she wore a lavender hoodie that read Half Teacher, Half Tea on it. It was paired with flimsy gray sweat shorts that rode up between her thighs in the most delicious way. Her hair was pulled into a tiny bun on top of her head, though it was short enough that the bottom half of it fell out of the hair tie and hugged her neck, instead.
I stood in the hallway and watched her smile for longer than I should have.
She had the best fucking smile.
Why couldn’t I say shit like this to her?
Why couldn’t I tell her how much I missed her asking me questions and telling me her weird stories, how badly I wanted to make her smile just the way she was right now.
Words were broken for me. They always had been.
Then again, maybe it wasn’t just words. Maybe it was my heart, my soul, my ability to care for another human being without the fear of losing them.
It wasn’t just Jenny, although that was the freshest wound. But I’d lost my mom. I’d lost my father, even though he was still alive. And there was only so much loving and losing a person could do before a piece of them just… broke.
I’d meant what I said to Chloe that night in the pool house. I couldn’t give her a relationship. I couldn’t be her friend.
What I’d left out was that I wished I could.
Like right now, I wanted to ask her about her father. I wanted to know why she never knew him. Did he pass away? Did he leave her and her mom? Did her mom leave him?
But I didn’t have the right. I was the one who put the boundaries in place, and they needed to exist.
Especially because I was a starved man when it came to her, and I’d do anything, play by any rules just to have the chance to hear her moan my name again.
“I think I missed quite the story,” I said, finally joining them in the dining area.
The words announced my presence, and Chef beamed a smile my way, gesturing for me to sit while she immediately jumped up to grab me a glass of milk.
Chloe, on the other hand, flushed a deep red and looked down at the table, untying her hair only to tie it back up again. It was still just as messy as before, and she seemed to not know what to do with her hands once she was done. She glanced up at me with a worried expression once Chef was gone.
“I’m sorry, we were just chatting. I can—”
“Stop,” I told her, hating how she was already moving to stand and hide away in that fucking pool house. I wanted to burn it down so she had no choice but to stay here. “This is your home, too.”
She swallowed. “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to… I was just…”
“Chloe, it’s fine. I—” I stopped myself before I could finish that sentence, which was I miss you being here.
Or maybe it was I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide.
I didn’t mean I never want to talk to you ever.
I didn’t mean any of it at all.
I… don’t know what I mean.
Instead, I cleared my throat just in time for Chef to join us again, handing me the glass of milk before she took a seat with her wine.
She patted the chair next to her, arching a brow at me and casting a curious look between me and Chloe.