Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 53697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
“You can learn art too.”
“Can you? I always thought artistic skill was natural.”
“I think people can get better. That’s why they have classes.”
“Do you do any art?”
“No.” I have to scoff at myself. “I’ve tried quite a few different things over the years. Maybe I’m one of those people who can’t be taught and doesn’t get better, even with classes. I actually tried pottery in college, and if your sister is good at it, then I take my hat off to her because that stuff isn’t easy.”
“I have no idea how she does it.” Pearl drains the rest of her water and squishes the empty bottle in her hand loudly. We’re just about down the second street, approaching a narrow asphalt path that looks like it cuts through people’s backyards, but I can see, once we’re closer, that it just skirts beside them.
“This is the way me and Susan walked home from school all the time. Down this path. Actually, we walked everywhere down it.”
I want to take Pearl’s hand, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. That would be too…I don’t know…too strings attached. Not that I’m sure about what’s going to happen when we get back to her parent’s place. She took me by surprise. And my dick thinks it’s a pleasant surprise. I feel half like an asshole for agreeing to it since it’s not something I’ve ever done, and half elated because yeah. Pearl. Naked. Who wouldn’t be excited about that?
If she just wants to sit and talk and make out, though, I’d be okay with that.
Or even just talking.
Whatever she wants to do.
Since we left the hall, I’ve made up my mind to enjoy it no matter what, because this is our last night together, and for some reason, it makes me really fucking sad. Like, really. It feels like I’m getting run over by a rabid, vengeful beaver who somehow figured out how to fire up the old tractor that’s been sitting around in the front yard for ages.
“You know, when I’m not here, I kind of miss this place.”
“Yeah.” I nod even though I have no idea because I don’t know what small-town life is like.
The path stops just short of Pearl’s parent’s house. We walk down the road for a few minutes until we approach the driveway. Pearl charges on ahead, walking fast. She opens the front door—I guess no one locks anything in a small town. For a second, I think she’s going to slam it in my face and laugh at me for thinking she’d want to ever do anything with me, but then her hand flies out, and she holds it open. As soon as I shut the door behind us, she walks a few steps and turns, her eyes so wide that it looks like a rabid beaver might have snuck in behind me. I actually glance over my shoulder. Thankfully, there’s nothing there.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Pearl asks. “I…I’m probably not even your type.”
“My type?”
“Your type is probably blonde. Bigger boobs. A nicer ass. Longer legs. More expensive everything. Someone not like me.”
“You’re crazy.” I shake my head in disbelief. “I don’t have a type. Believe it or not, I’ve never done this. The fake boyfriend thing, or this.”
“Really?” Pearl’s nose scrunches up at the bridge as she gapes at me. “You mean, you’ve always just waited until it meant something? In a relationship?”
“I suppose so.”
“Did someone mess you up? Or was it someones? Because for me, it was a few. That’s why I want to stay single. I think it saves a lot of time, effort, headache, heartache, the whole bit.”
“You’re probably right.”
“What happened with yours? The one who put you on the single and narrow? Mine cheated on me with two women. In my bed. It was the good ol’ straw that broke the camel’s back.”
“I got used.” My voice is flat and to the point. Devoid of emotion even though just thinking about it still stings. “Badly. And it turned me off a repeat experience.”
Pearl nods slowly. “So this is for sure no strings attached? We have our night, I drive you home tomorrow, and we both look back on this, I hope, with fond memories?”
“You said I waited until it meant something. In the past.”
“I was just…that was just me thinking out loud.”
“It does mean something. I want you to know that. Just because we won’t see each other again doesn’t mean it doesn’t mean anything. It does. I’m just not ready to change my life up. And you aren’t either. But it definitely means something. This weekend was one of the best I’ve had in a very long time.” I sound surprised. I didn’t plan on saying it. Any of it, really, but especially not that last bit.