Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
We were quiet for a while, eating, until Bird looked up, frowning.
“Do you think Pop actually killed someone?”
I chose my words carefully. While Bird knew that the Aces weren’t exactly on the right side of the law when it came to most of their side work, my baby brother was surprisingly naïve when it came to Pop’s lifestyle. “I think that whatever he did, he’s been paying for longer than we’ve been alive.”
“I just can’t imagine him actually killing someone,” he murmured.
“Maybe it was an accident,” I replied quietly. “Or something stupid, like a bar fight or something.”
“Yeah.”
“It happened way before we were born.”
“Yeah.” He pushed his empty bowl to the side and picked up his pencil again.
His was bent over and tiny strands of hair were falling out of his ponytail into his face, and for a second, I was transported back to when we were little and he had been blissfully unaware of anything more important than staying up past his bedtime and whether or not he could sneak candy from the kitchen drawer.
“Hey,” I said, waving my hand over the chemistry book. “Why don’t you put that away and we’ll go get ice cream.”
“It’s due tomorrow,” he argued halfheartedly.
“So, you’ll have time to finish when we get back.”
“I thought you were saving money.” He raised one eyebrow.
“I’m pretty sure that I can spare a few dollars for ice cream.”
Bird narrowed his eyes. “I’m getting two scoops or I’m staying here and doing chemistry.”
“Come on, butthole,” I said, shoving him as I brought the dishes to the sink. “I’ll get you two scoops.”
“Stellar.” He slapped his book shut and hurried toward the door. “Can I drive?”
“That’s a big fat fucking no,” I yelled, chasing him as he ran out the front door.
If I would’ve known that Nana and Pop were going to be home by the time we got back from the ice cream shop, I would’ve kept Bird out longer. They were supposed to be out late, that’s why they’d asked me to be home, but Pop’s bike was in the driveway when we parked. He was pissed because I hadn’t cleaned up after dinner. It was such a small thing, and I would’ve done it when we got back, but that didn’t seem to matter. He spent ten minutes railing about responsibility and cleaning up after ourselves and how he wasn’t raising entitled kids, and by the time he’d wound down Bird’s shoulders were tensed up around his ears and his mouth was pinched with worry.
By the time we went to bed, no one in the house was in the best mood. Bird didn’t even ask to come into my room that night. He just silently slipped in and made his bed on the floor without a word. The rest of the week was pretty calm, though, and by the weekend, all of us had pretty much forgotten or at least stopped thinking about Pop’s shitty mood.
Thursday, I went on the date I’d mentioned to Rumi, but the guy who’d seemed so charming when I’d met him at work turned out to be a dud. I tried not to compare him to my best friend, but it was impossible. Sean wasn’t as tall as Rumi, he wasn’t as funny, and while he was arguably as good looking, he just didn’t have that thing about him that drew you in. I spent most of the night texting Rumi commentary under the table and was at home and in bed by ten and perfectly happy about it.
The weekend was pretty boring since I was working both jobs and didn’t have a ton of free time. I missed weekends but the tips were so much better at the pancake house on Saturday and Sunday that it was worth the sacrifice. It wasn’t until the next Monday when I had the morning off and realized that I’d barely spoken to Rumi since I’d left his house.
I tried to brush it off like it didn’t matter. It wasn’t unheard of for us to go a few days without talking, but he almost always reached out on the weekends to see what I was doing or stopped by the pancake house to see me. The fact that he hadn’t made me feel weird, which irritated me because we’d said that sleeping together wasn’t going to change things and I couldn’t be sure if the sinking feeling in my belly would be there if we’d kept things strictly platonic. Bottom line, I was starting to overthink shit like a girlfriend and that was unacceptable, so I stopped by the garage on my way to work.
“Hey Nova,” Rumi’s grandpa Grease greeted as I climbed out of my car. He was leaning against the building smoking a cigarette and the familiar sight made me smile. Life had seemed weird lately with Pop stomping around the house and all of the stuff with Rumi and this little piece of normalcy was welcome.