Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53671 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53671 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
“I was actually wondering if I could use your bathroom. Mine’s not functional at the moment.”
Bam! Rea’s arms cross over her waist as she studies me furiously. “Are you insane? Go water the grass in your backyard if you need one so badly.”
“It’s not really a watering problem. It’s more of a fertilization issue.”
I know it’s been eight years, but this is the same woman who once had to live with the fact that I often passed wind in her presence. Not meaning to, of course, but sometimes it just slipped out. She’s seen me barf, and she’s returned the favor. We dated for three and a half years, and so, of course, we were well acquainted with the less spoken of, more embarrassing details of the human body. I could never, and did not once ever, think Rea was gross.
Right now, she clearly thinks I’m insane for hinting at the fact that I want to drop a deuce in her bathroom. I would never be comfortable enough with another living soul to ask for such a favor.
“Oh, I see.” Rea’s tone is patronizing. “You want to take a dump in my toilet.”
“Yeah, well…yes.”
“Jesus. If you’re so hard up, pinch it shut and drive yourself to the closest gas station. There’s one five minutes away. I’m sure you could make it.”
“I don’t know about that. I’ve been standing here for quite a while talking to you. Also, I think it’s more like ten.”
“Ugh! Well, buy yourself one of those construction outhouses or something. Or better yet, don’t. Best of all, you could just leave. Realize you’ve been beaten, put the house up for sale, and go. Or stay at a fancy five-star hotel and eat caviar and grapes while someone else fixes up the house for you. You have money. Put it, and some common sense, to good use.”
Ouch. Such a beat down could only be appreciated coming from her.
“So, there’s no chance I could use your bathroom?”
“No! Good lord. What the heck is wrong with yours?”
“The house actually came sans toilet.”
“That’s not my problem. Now, will you please get the heck off my porch before I do call the cops and tell them you threatened me with poop?”
“I just wanted to sample the lovely toilet paper you profess to have.”
“Goodnight,” Rea growls and slams the door in my face. It opens a crack right after, and her hand emerges, flipping me the bird before she slams it again.
Well then. This seems to be a continuing trend. How exciting.
It means Rea still feels something. If she didn’t, she’d tell me how nice it is to see me again, shake my hand like an old friend, give me a pleasant smile, and get down to working out how we can be the best team we could be, taking the toilet paper world by storm. The uncaring Rea would be fastidiously professional. I’ve seen Rea in action, and I used to know this woman. I know that’s how she’d react.
This Rea? The angry Rea rising to a perceived challenge? The Rea who flips me the bird, threatens me with a hammer, and the cops? That’s a Rea who still feels something.
I hum a soft tune to myself as I walk back to my driveway and slide into my rental. It’s time to hit that corner store. I don’t eat junk, but I could get a bottle of water as an excuse to use their bathroom. Or maybe get some almonds or something. I’m feeling ridiculously good for a guy who just got flipped off twice in one day, both by the same person.
In fact, I feel really, really hopeful for this mess of a plan I have yet to put together.
CHAPTER 5
Rea
I’m up early since I couldn’t sleep anyway.
Who the heck could actually get a goodnight’s sleep after their ex from like a million years ago shows up and basically makes it known he’s there to ruin their life? I tossed and turned all night and was haunted by thoughts of how my future is going straight down the pooper I wouldn’t let Kayden use last night. I was even more haunted by thoughts of the past.
Ugh. Memories. Sometimes, they really suck.
I wish I could turn off all my memories of Kayden, but seeing him in person, all real flesh and blood and t-shirts that echo the rippling muscle beneath, bulging biceps, and low hung jeans, makes it really freaking hard.
I might have succeeded in shutting down most of the err…umm…inappropriate memories since they did horrible things to my body, and my body is supposed to be my own, but there were a few I couldn’t block out.
I have a brother and a sister. My sister is two years younger than me. When I was in my second year of college, she was in a pretty bad car accident. She ended up being fine, but she did have to go to months of physical therapy after. I couldn’t stop thinking about that night—how my parents called me at one in the morning. Kiera, my sister, was driving home from a friend’s house after they’d had a small gathering to watch movies, eat snacks, and hang out—the usual. It was a Friday night, and her car was t-boned by a drunk driver. Kayden drove me to the hospital. My sister had to have surgery on her left arm, which is where she was when we got there. I remember my parents, how upset they were. After they’d gone to sit down and wait, I paced up and down the halls of the hospital, restless and anxious.