Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“But this is a vegetable. It’s healthy,” I say, springing extra fried French onion pieces on my serving. I am shameless. “So this is… I mean, you know how to cook because your mom wasn’t… she wasn’t around much?”
For a moment, I’m sure he’s going to shut down on me, but then his strong jaw twitches and he starts to talk. “There were a lot of nights where my mom hadn’t made dinner, and was worried because my father was on his way home, so I was left to fend for myself . But other times she wasn’t really in any condition to cook.” He lets the words “any condition” to hang in the air, and though he hasn’t specified what he means, it’s clear it’s something dark— drunk, or high, maybe.
“Oh,” I say quietly.
“So I would follow recipes on the backs of cans and make what I could. I can make basic Nestle Tollhouse cookies like a boss.”
This makes me laugh a little, and I take another bite. “Are you and your mom close?”
Finn’s jaw twitches again. “Yes and no. I talk to her, and I know she watches all the games. She was upset when I left Florida to come here, even though I’m just about the same distance from her, driving-wise. But I try not to give her too much of…” He takes a breath. “Myself? She’s a little bit of a whirlwind. Sometimes she’s up, sometimes she’s down. I’m pretty sure she’s manic depressive, but she’d never go get tested for it. In high school I realized that I needed to keep a little bit of a barrier between the two of us, or I’d get swept up in it all.”
I’m stunned, not just by the revelation, but by the fact that he’s talking so much. It’s a moment before I realize my fork is hovering by my mouth, like someone paused me mid-bite. I set it down and lick my lips. “My dad died. When I was so little I don't remember him. Even Mandy barely remembers him.”
“I didn't know that,” Finn says softly.
I shrug. “It was a long time ago. Thing is, I'm pretty sure my parents were going to get divorced. They're both scientists, and apparently what was sort of a healthy competition in grad school got super unhealthy when my mom had some big successes. So they were going to split up, but then he died instead. It's just a weird thing I guess.”
“I imagine. Does your mom talk about him?”
“Not really? And I don't mind, exactly. I mean, I don't know who he was to miss him, exactly. And my mom did a great job raising us. But then I feel like maybe I'm doing something wrong, not missing him? Isn’t there some sort of psychology behind this? Shouldn’t I have like…daddy issues or something?”
Finn laughs a little. “Maybe you do, but just don’t recognize them. I probably have all sorts of issues I don’t spot. My mom—“ he pauses, like he’s unsure, then forges ahead, “my mom used to be a stripper. And I’m pretty sure she was giving more than a few of her clients happy endings.”
“Oh. Wow,” I say, eyebrows lifting. What do you say to that, exactly?
“Yeah. It’d be one thing if she was doing it to make ends meet with me, you know? But it was mostly for drugs. So. Yeah. I’ve surely got some deep seated issues somewhere, between my mom and my dad.”
“But,” I say, sticking my fork back into my food, “your mom and dad mean that you’re an amazing cook.”
“And they’re why I started playing football— I wanted to get out of the house,” he adds.
“And I’m guessing they’re why you’re a classics major. Or at least why you’re obsessed with Hercules. You know— the idea of the noble hero.”
“You sure you’re not a psych major, mathlete?” Finn says, grinning.
“Positive. And speaking of, we’ve only got two hours before you have weightlifting, right? We’d better start,” I say, setting my plate aside and reaching for my bag of tutoring supplies.
“Two hours.” Finn rolls his eyes. “I can learn whatever it is I need to know in one. Which means we have plenty of time for extracurriculars…” Finn says, drifting off, eyes gleaming as his gaze rakes up my body.
I bite my lip, trying not to smile at him. “Math first. Then if there’s time…we’ll see.”
“Yes, teacher,” he says teasingly. “But come on. You’ve got to give me some motivation.”
“Not getting thrown off the team? Me getting my summer internship with Dr. Reams?”
Finn smiles, then leans across the couch, lowering his head to kiss my ankle, my leg, sneaking up to my knee— “Sure, sure. But I mean some immediate motivation. The kind that means we finish working faster, so we can get to more enjoyable activities.”