Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23126 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23126 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
What’s not a surprise is that there’s a man in the kitchen too. He’s in a pair of slacks and a button-up shirt leaning against the counter next to her. I think he’s been here a few times because I recognize his shiny shoes, but he’s always quick to make an exit.
“Hey.” I give an awkward smile.
“Hey, honey. I made you your favorite.” My mom hands me two Pop-Tarts wrapped in a paper towel. Is this her trying to be Suzy Homemaker for this man? “My girl is addicted to the s’mores flavor. Aren’t you?” She’s right, but god this is awkward. “Have I got to introduce you to Nathan Porter? He’s a lawyer here in town.” The man shoots my mom an irritated expression, but she doesn’t catch it. Looks like he didn’t want her mentioning that.
My mom is in a silk robe, and by the looks of it, she’s not wearing anything under it. I’m willing to bet he’s not here for a consultation after what I heard last night.
“Hi.” I glance away, pretending I don’t notice him. “Thanks, Mom.” I take a bite of my Pop-Tart. “I should get going. Nice to meet you, Ethan,” I rush to say before I’m out the front door and my mom can’t try and correct me calling him the wrong name. Little does she know I did her a favor. Now he thinks I won’t remember who he is.
The last name Porter does sound familiar, and then it hits me. That’s the same last name of the Jack guy who invited me to the party. At least I’m guessing it was because that’s what was stitched on the back of his letterman jacket. God, I hope this town isn't that small.
It’s early when I make it to the high school, which I did on purpose. I’m supposed to report to the main office before class so that when the first bell rings I can get a tour of the school while the hallways are empty. Getting here before then lets me take a peek for myself.
I tried to sign up for one of the music classes, but they told me it was full. All I really wanted was to play the piano because it’s been months since I’ve gotten my fingers on an acoustic one. To feel each strike of the key and be able to control the power is something I could never do on a digital keyboard. It can’t feel the difference of true touch when playing sweetly or with overwhelming determination.
The need for that release has been simmering inside of me for weeks, and when I make it to the school parking lot, I'm grateful it’s mostly empty. The only sounds I hear are whistles and loud grunts and then I see guys practicing on the football field.
One of the players stops to talk to the coach who blew the whistle, and he’s hard to miss. When he pulls his helmet off, he’s listening intently to whatever the coach tells him. He must go to the school if he’s on the team but he’s not built like any of the other guys. I’ve been to high school before and seen football players, but this guy is huge.
I don’t know if he feels me watching, but he suddenly turns his head my way, and his eyes lock with mine. I’m frozen in a moment I don’t quite understand until someone else comes running up behind the giant player. The other guy claps him on the back, and the movement breaks our connection. When my attention is pulled away, I realize the guy behind him holding his helmet is Jack. Of course. He notices me just as fast, and I want to crawl in a hole and disappear.
“Hey new girl! Like what you see?” he shouts, and not only does the giant player glance my way again but so do the coaches and the rest of the guys on the field.
Feeling utterly embarrassed, I hurry down the sidewalk and ignore whatever else they might be saying as I rush into the school. For some strange reason, disappointment fills me that the two of them are friends. Football players are a team, so I shouldn’t be surprised the big guy is a jerk too.
Once I’m inside, I try to shake off the encounter as I go in search of the music department.
The word theater is etched into the glass over two double doors, and I peek in one to find what I’m looking for. On the stage is a piano, and when I pull on the handle, the door opens.
I don’t see anyone around so I make my way toward the stage. It’s over half an hour before school is supposed to start, and surely no one will notice if I play one little song or two. I drop my bag down next to the piano and take a seat.