Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“It’s a rare break,” she replied, leaning her head against my arm. “Only a week, though.”
“Damn, girl,” Rumi said, rolling down his window. “You work too hard.”
“Don’t light up in here, man,” I ordered as he reached toward his pocket. “She can’t go home smelling like weed.”
“I rolled the window down!”
“You’re sittin’ right next to her, dipshit.”
“Fine.”
“We’re almost home anyway,” I said, pulling onto our driveway. “Go out back and smoke.”
“Mom’s got a nose like a bloodhound,” Rumi grumbled, using both hands to smooth his hair away from his face. “She’s caught me like seven times.”
“Maybe you should stop smoking?” Emilia asked sarcastically.
“Never,” he shot back. He hopped out of the truck the minute I’d rolled to a stop.
“He’s such a pain in the ass.”
“He’s adorable,” Emilia replied, elbowing me lightly in the side. “He’s like a golden retriever.”
“Oh, yeah?” I asked, putting the truck in park. “What am I?”
She tilted her head to the side and stared at me. “A bulldog,” she said finally, her lips twitching.
“Ouch!” I hit the buckles on our seat belts and reached for her, jabbing my fingers into her ribs the way I knew would have her jumping out of her skin.
“Michael,” she screeched, pushing at my hands. Her whole body shook with laughter. “It wasn’t a burn!”
“I am offended.” I chased her across the seat as she struggled to escape.
“You’re muscular,” she yelled. “Your shoulders are massive!”
“Well,” I said, pausing. “I like where this is going.” I made a face at her, pushing my bottom jaw forward so it looked like I had a severe underbite.
“Oh, my god,” she said, wheezing. “Quit it.”
“Why?” I asked, spitting a little as I held my jaw forward. “I’m a bulldog.”
“You’re a lunatic,” she argued, scrunching her nose. “But I love you anyway.”
“Good,” I said, smiling down at her. “’Cause I’m crazy for you.”
“Or maybe just crazy?”
“Nah, it’s all for you, sugar.”
“Michael Asa Hawthorne,” my mom said, knocking on the window behind me. “Stop molesting that girl in the driveway and come help me with the groceries.”
“Hi, Mrs. Hawthorne,” Emilia said, leaning around me so she could smile at my mom.
“Emmy, if you don’t call me Heather, I’m going to start making you do chores,” my mom replied. “Looking good, sweetheart. Love the hair.”
“Yeah?” Emilia said, reaching up to fix the bangs she’d just cut the night before. “I wasn’t sure—”
“No, it suits your face. Very cute.”
“Thanks,” Emilia said happily.
I sat up and pulled Emilia with me as my mom opened up my door.
“Not sure you should be takin’ hair advice from someone who regularly cuts hers into a mohawk,” I said jokingly, dodging my mom as she tried to pinch me.
“Yeah, right,” Emilia said as she climbed out behind me. “Your mom always looks awesome.”
“I like her,” my mom said to me. “Make sure you don’t fuck it up.”
Emilia laughed.
“Why would I fuck it up?” I asked as I followed them toward my mom’s van. “Maybe it’ll be Emmy.”
“Ha!” my mom said, wrapping her arm around Emilia’s waist. “Emmy’s an angel.”
Emilia looked at me over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out.
I grumbled as I grabbed bags of groceries out of the back of the van, but I wasn’t really mad. I actually pretty much loved that Emilia got along with my family so well. It wasn’t a surprise, she got along with everyone and had always been pretty universally liked, but there was something different about how my family treated her. They loved her. It wasn’t conditional on whether or not we were together, we’d had a couple break ups, especially in the beginning before we’d started the whole “tutoring” thing and weren’t able to hang out very much—but they’d treated her the same whether we were off or on.
Emilia’s house wasn’t like ours. Her parents loved her and I didn’t think they’d ever neglected her or hurt her or anything like that… they just expected a lot. When they didn’t get what they wanted or she disappointed them, they iced her out. I always knew when it happened. She’d show up at school quieter than normal or she’d snap at me for something she’d thought was funny the day before, or like this morning, she’d show up with a new hairstyle she’d done herself. I could always tell, though. It was impossible for her to hide anything from me, we knew each other so well.
“Otto was home with a headache today,” my mom said as we headed into the house. “So heads up, he’s in the family room.”
“Poor guy,” Emilia said quietly. “We’ll keep it down.”
“He’s just watching TV, honey,” Mom said, putting her bags on the counter. “You don’t have to be quiet.”
“He has a hard time sleepin’,” I explained, looking around. “Where the hell is Rumi? Why isn’t he helpin’?”
“I didn’t see him, so I thought he rode the bus?” my mom said in confusion.