Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“So where is he now?” Mimi demanded, looking around. “Why isn’t he here?”
I wrung my hands. “He’s very busy with work.”
“What exactly does he do?” Ella asked. “I’ve read the articles about him and all, but I’m embarrassed to say I have no idea what cryptocurrency is.”
“It’s complicated.” I glanced toward the bar, dying to excuse myself and get another drink.
“It’s too bad he couldn’t be here tonight,” Mimi said with a suspicious look in her eye. “You’d think he’d want to support your little business venture and all.”
“He’s very supportive,” I said. Which would have been fine, except that I added, “He’s coming later.”
Mimi smiled like she still didn’t believe me. “How nice. I can’t wait to congratulate you both in person.”
Shit! Now what was I going to do?
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just go call him and see if he’s on his way. Nice chatting with you.” Grabbing my purse, I turned and walked away from them. As soon as I was out of the room, the sneakers came in handy, because I bolted to the end of the hall and ducked into the coat closet. Since it was summer, it was dark and empty—I slammed the door behind me and leaned back against it, breathing hard.
I had to think. Should I call him? He might have his phone off. I could text him, but it would be hard to explain myself in a text. And I wasn’t sure he’d view the situation with the same urgency I did. Could I pretend I was having a bloody nose and beg him for a ride to the ER? He’d show up, but he might be mad when he got here and there was no blood. Could I give myself a bloody nose? I briefly considered punching myself in the face.
Then I sank to the floor and sat cross-legged, my phone in my lap, the tips of my thumbs between my teeth.
Curse my big mouth!
Every time I got nervous, I spewed something weird or shocking. And just like stress-cutting my hair, it often got me into trouble. Or ruined what could have been a nice moment.
Like my first kiss.
If I closed my eyes, I could still smell the public library study room and picture the table where we’d been sitting. Our AP calc exam was the following morning, and Hutton and I were seated next to each other, working through the study guide.
We’d already been to prom together, and there were only a few days of school left. Once exams were over, all we had left was the graduation ceremony to get through. Lately I’d been a little panicked at the thought of losing him—the one true friend I had.
I kept looking over at him, and my stomach was doing this weird flippy thing. I liked the way his dark blond hair was messy and tousled in the front. He sometimes played with it while he worked. He was so intense when he studied, his blue eyes laser-focused on the page. He had a long, straight nose, nice ears, and when he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed. Sometimes he moved his jaw to one side or another when he was concentrating, and his lips would part. I’d never kissed a boy and wondered what kissing Hutton would feel like.
Absently, I rubbed my pencil eraser over my lower lip while I stared at Hutton’s mouth.
He looked over at me. “What?”
I sat up straight and put both hands on the table, pencil down. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You were staring at me.”
“No, I wasn’t. I was staring into space. And thinking.”
“About what?”
“Have you ever kissed anyone?” My stomach lurched.
Hutton’s cheeks flushed and he dropped his eyes to his notebook. “No.”
“Me neither.” I picked up my pencil again and doodled in the margin.
“Have you ever wanted to?”
He went completely still. “Wanted to what?”
“Kiss someone.”
He looked at me. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Have you?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
Bob. “Me too.”
Suddenly I was aware of how close we were sitting. And how no one else was in the study room with us.
He leaned forward a little. His eyes were on my mouth.
I thought he was going to do it. I was positive he was going to do it. I wanted him to do it. But then I panicked—how did you kiss a boy?
Like, where did your noses go? What did you do with your tongue? Were my glasses going to be in the way? Was my breath okay? How long were you supposed to keep your lips together? Should I move them or keep them still? Dammit, I was chewing gum! Should I swallow it? And what did this mean that I wanted Hutton to kiss me? Was I in love with him? If he kissed me, were we more than friends? What did he really think of me? My heart was pounding and I was sweating profusely and the seconds were ticking by, I could hear them on that old clock on the wall—tick, tick, tick—and he still didn’t make a move, and I couldn’t take it anymore, so I shot words into the silence like bullets.