Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Still, the indignity of getting tossed out of his apartment just a few weeks ago is fresh on my mind. But so is that tramp teaching assistant I’ve seen eyeing him.
I hesitate, bag in hand. Maybe I shouldn’t push it. But then again, we’re friends, at the very least. Right? There’s no reason he can’t give me a ride back to campus. We’re both going to the same place, after all. In fact, it’s economical for him to drive me. And environmentally friendly. I nod my head. I’ve always been concerned about the environment.
So he’ll drive me back. I’ll be normal. I won’t make one inappropriate advance. We’ll laugh. He’ll drop me off and realize he wants to spend more time with me. I’ve totally got this.
Fourteen
Three Hours Ago
I’ve never been to Finn Camden’s house before. My knee bounces in anticipation while I sit in the passenger seat of Eric’s car. Finn is eight years older than me, and Finn was Eric’s friend, so obviously there was never a reason for me to go to Finn’s house. I’m curious to see it. Finn hasn’t lived there for years now, but it’ll be something to add to my mental Finn file.
We turn right onto North Road, after passing the Venice Restaurant and Pizzeria, and I laugh.
“What’s funny?” Eric asks.
“Remember how Dad always ordered clams on his pizza and no one would touch it but him?”
“Disgusting,” Eric agrees, but he’s smiling. “And Mom would order pepperoni for the rest of us.”
“Yeah.”
“I should take Erin,” he muses while we wait for a light to change.
“You should,” I agree.
“What about you, Everly?”
“What about me what?” I ask, confused.
“Are you seeing anyone?” He looks over at me. “At school?”
Not successfully, I think to myself. “No, not right now. I’m kinda taking a break this semester.”
“Taking a break,” Eric repeats, glancing over at me. “That’s not like you. At all.”
I shrug. “It’s exhausting.”
“What’s exhausting?” he asks, frowning.
“Um—” Breaking and entering, I think. But I can’t tell him that. “You know, the whole ‘does he like me’ thing.”
“If you have to wonder if a guy likes you, then he’s not the right guy for you, Everly.”
“Maybe it’s more complicated than that.”
“It’s never more complicated than that.”
I nod, not because I agree, but because there’s really nothing more I can say. Thankfully we’re pulling into a driveway on Ridgebury, so I’m saved from having to discuss it further.
The landscaping is gorgeous, even this late into fall. Huge pine trees line the drive and a towering birch tree sits in the middle of an island created by the circular drive. The leaves have partially fallen away, and I can see that the tree clears the two-story house. I know the houses over here have been here for decades, so I’m not sure if the tree was planted with the house, or if the driveway was created around the tree in order to preserve it.
Based on the drive in, it appears that all the homes on this street sit on a few acres each. It’s idyllic. I’m surprised I ever saw Eric and Finn at my house. I’d have hung out here every chance I got.
There are several cars in the drive, and I spot Finn’s among them. Eric parks and we’re heading for the front door when I remember Finn has no idea I’m coming. I bite my lip and say a quick prayer that this works out.
The front door is flanked by glass panels and a big yellow dog watches us approach. He lets out a laid-back bark in greeting and the door is swung open by a woman I’m guessing is Finn’s mother. She gives Eric a hug while the dog nudges my hand and looks at me hopefully. I bend down to scratch his head and he falls to the floor, rolls onto his back and thumps his tail. I laugh and rub his belly instead.
Eric introduces me to Mrs. Camden and I stand politely while she asks about his recent wedding. I glance around the foyer while they talk, admiring the inside of the home. It’s about what I’d assumed—nice. I know from my prying over the years that Finn’s dad is a lawyer and his mom is an interior designer. The house shows it, for sure. It looks like the pages of a home magazine, yet lived in. The dog at my feet is proof that a family lives here and it’s more than a showpiece.
I turn my attention to Mrs. Camden. I’d estimate her to be a few years older than my parents, maybe early to mid-sixties. She looks very chic wearing a crisp white blouse tucked into dark jeans, a belt looped around her trim waist. She’s formal, yet approachable, much like the house.
“You’re a student at Penn, correct, Everly?” She’s finished exchanging pleasantries with Eric and has turned to me.