Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 22331 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22331 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
“Um,” I say, avoiding eye contact with both of them. “Not like I have anything else to do today.”
“Tagging along just to look at houses doesn’t seem all that fun to me, Fig. Not unless I’m doing it with someone who I want to spend time with.”
“Are you trying to imply something, Lemon?”
Lemon laughs as she stands up, coffee in hand. “I’m implying nothing at all. You take care of yourself, Fig. I’m really looking forward to Christmas on the beach. And you take care of yourself too, Hank. You two be safe out there.”
She continues to chuckle as she goes through the door.
“Is your sister usually that oblivious?” Hank says, watching her go.
“Oblivious about what, Hank?”
He looks back at me, and nervously scratches his head. “Guess I shouldn’t pry too much. It’s just a sister thing.”
The truth being pried out of me right now terrifies me. I don’t want to tell my family about my career. And I don’t want to rush things too much with Hank, either.
After all, if I’m too cowardly about the former, the latter won’t happen. I’m not cruel enough to try to wrap Hank up with me in some sort of long-distance relationship. He’s the type of guy who definitely deserves better than that, and I don’t think I’d do well only seeing my crush every few months.
“I think I’m going to get my coffee to go, Fig. Unless you have any objections, why don’t we get started on our little expedition early?”
“I’ve got nowhere to be, so I think I’d like that.”
The butterflies within me flutter ruthlessly whenever I look at him. No other guy makes me this nervous.
And he’s just offering to take me house hunting, of all things. As Lemon said, it’s not exactly the most high-intensity, fun thing I can imagine.
But above all, I want to be close to Hank. Through all the uncertainty I’m feeling, that much I do know.
6
HANK
“This is a charming little townhouse, right next to downtown,” the realtor says. She’s an older woman in her fifties, and seems nice enough.
“I’m going to just skip that one,” I reply. Fig and I are being driven around town. “Townhouses aren’t really for me.”
“How come? Aren’t you a single man?”
I look at Fig. “For now, I am, but I’m planning on the long-term. Besides, I want a place with a nice big yard. Something a dog can run around freely in, or where I could build one of those things… you know, with the monkey bars on the playground? With the bridge and slide? What do you call them when they're just in your backyard?”
“I believe they’re just called playsets, sir. Even when they’re just in your backyard.”
“Then yeah, one of those. Whatever they're called. I need space, and a townhouse ain’t going to cut it.”
The realtor nods along. “We’ll go to the outskirts then, sir. I didn’t know you were planning that far ahead for yourself.”
My hand is around Fig’s shoulder. She’s quiet and nervous. I know she’s covering something up, because I’ve seen her out of her shell and that version of her is a whole lot sexier.
“You never know how fast things will happen. I’m just being prepared.”
The realtor looks at me, and then Fig, via the rearview mirror. She’s making assumptions about us, and I’m in no rush to correct her.
We roll into the countryside just outside of town and stop at a cottage home. It’s by no means massive, but it has a few bedrooms and looks the part for a family home.
“That’s quite the cute little cottage there,” Fig says.
“Old and durable construction,” the realtor says. “It’s been on the market for a bit, but I don’t think it’s because of the quality.”
“Then why hasn’t it been bought?” I ask.
“The younger generation is more citybound, I suppose. Wanting a big house with a yard, two and a half kids, and a dog isn’t the norm anymore. Especially in a small town like Home.”
“I’d love to live in a place like this,” Fig says as she steps out of the car.
“Really?” I say, rising to meet her. “After all your time in Los Angeles you’re eyeballing this quaint country cabin?”
“Why does everyone just assume I’m a big city girl now? Like I’m going to wilt and die if I don’t have a bodega within a half mile of me?”
“The nearest store is the grocer in Home,” the realtor says, trying to be helpful but mostly being background noise.
“You’ve spent four years there. Thought you had a taste for it.”
“I spent four years there for my education, Hank. I wasn’t going to get a fashion degree at the local community college.”
“Fair.”
“I spent long enough in LA to have a taste of it. And maybe I spent long enough there to realize that I don’t want to spend my life like that. Maybe that’s what some people want, but I realized I’m not those people.”