Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
“You!” I point. “Your girlfriend is my frickin’ manager! My boss!”
“What?” he replies, looking genuinely confused.
“Delilah! The diner! I work at the frickin’ diner where your girlfriend—”
“Oh, God…” Lyle groans, putting a hand to his head.
“Yeah!” I snap. “Exactly! Do you know how awkward this is? How bad this is?”
He pauses for a second, like he’s collecting his thoughts, then takes a deep breath and looks up at me and nods.
“Was she…nice to you at least?”
“No! No, she wasn’t.” I almost want to laugh at how preposterous that question truly is. “I mean, what are you thinking, Lyle?”
He stares at me with a look in his eyes I haven’t seen before. He’s still unbelievably handsome, but there’s something there now…almost like a vulnerability, a chink in his armor I would have never expected.
Should I come right out and say it?
He did save me from something truly awful. He did give me a place to stay. I owe him so much already, and to tell him what’s on my mind right now…just seems so wrong.
But on the other hand, my day at work and everything I had to deal with is still sitting heavy on me, and before I know it, my lips are moving.
“She’s awful, Lyle! She’s terrible! What are you doing with her? I don’t understand!”
And there it is. My cards are on the table, and there’s no taking them back.
Lyle looks at me for a moment, and I can’t tell whether he wants to yell at me or simply hang his head at what I just said. He opens his mouth but doesn’t speak.
I’m trembling again. My palms are sweating. What have I done? This man’s relationship is none of my business. This is bitchy-Yara coming out again, and I couldn’t stop her.
Please, Thor, strike me down with a bolt of lightning so I don’t have to endure this any longer.
“Okay, look. I should explain—” Lyle starts to speak, but then in the distance, I hear the sound of a car approaching. And although I’ve only heard it once, I recognize it immediately.
It’s Delilah’s.
“Shit,” we both say in unison.
“Get upstairs,” he snaps.
“I’m on my way.”
I rush past him, grab the door and tug it open, then take the stairs two at a time up to the apartment, wishing I’d been able to just keep my stupid mouth shut. I did it at work, why couldn’t I have just done it here too?
4
Lyle
A guy rolled into the shop today with the spare tire on his car so worn down from driving that it had blown out on him on the highway, and instead of getting it towed, he just drove it over to us on the rim, shooting sparks and tearing up the road on his way over. I guess someone forgot to tell him the donut is only meant for temporary use until you buy yourself a new tire for the old one.
We normally never see that level of idiocy at the garage, but it got me thinking about what Yara said to me yesterday – about what I’m doing with Delilah.
Sure, maybe I didn’t have a choice when I first started to go out with her, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling like a total idiot now after being confronted by Yara.
It’s like she completely emasculated me. I want her and I’m screwing around with some girl I have absolutely no interest with, completely unable to date the girl who I can’t get out of my mind every second of the day. How the Hell am I supposed to explain that to her?
At the beginning of our relationship, I thought I’d never be able to deal with dating Delilah. But then slowly, I started to get used to things, like this moron driving around on his spare tire. He probably told himself at first to keep on top of it, to not forget, but then after a while he just slowly let it become part of his life.
I glance at the clock hanging over the door to the front of house and see that I’ve only got seventeen minutes left until it’s time to head home, and today, rather than just accepting that it’s time to go back to the house and see my “girlfriend,” I feel a sense of hesitation come over me.
I want to do something that actually makes me feel good for once. Maybe take Yara out for dinner, for example.
With a deep sigh, I reach into my pocket and take out my phone to dial Delilah, but quickly think better of it and send a text instead.
Bad news. Pete’s making me stay late and work overtime.
It’s a lie, but if she can’t see me or hear the tone of my voice, she can’t know that. She also knows I’m not supposed to answer my phone at work when she calls, so when she instantly calls back five seconds later, I have a reason not to pick up.