Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 103102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Deanna: Are you really skipping drinks tonight?
Deanna: The outfit Lexi picked for me is beyond extra. Do people still say extra? Probably not. But it’s the best way to describe this. It’s a lot.
Deanna: You should come to the bar, after dinner. Since we were interrupted before we could finish.
In any other circumstance, I’d assume she means sex. The thought is tempting—so tempting it heats the car by twenty degrees. I see it already: the two of us in the too-cramped back seat, struggling into a position, laughing at the awkwardness, then falling into it.
Her lips on my neck.
My hands on her thighs.
Her groan in my ears.
I need that groan. Here. There. Everywhere.
Deanna: We’ll be there at eight.
I need to say something honest. But Grandma swore me to secrecy. The four people who absolutely, positively cannot know about her condition are the Huntingtons and Mom. She doesn’t want anyone close to her, physically or because of blood ties, to know.
She didn’t want to tell me, or Fern, or North, or Aunt Briana. If she had the choice, she wouldn’t have told me. I don’t like it, but I understand it.
I hate the looks of pity I get when I mention my situation with my mother. I never tell anyone. Not friends or girlfriends or teachers.
Like grandmother, like grandson.
River: Show me the outfit.
Using sex as a distraction. Grandma would be proud. Or maybe disappointed.
It’s not smart. For once, I need to think about what I’m doing with a woman. I need to follow logic, not my heart.
This is complicated.
Only I don’t care. I want her too much to care.
I’m outgrowing my naive ideals.
Or I’m regressing to a horny teenager.
Both maybe.
Deanna: You have to earn that.
River: How?
Deanna: You show up here.
River: Not a picture?
Deanna: Aren’t you more the behind the camera type?
River: I do self-portraits too.
Deanna: Is that an offer?
River: I take requests.
Deanna: Okay. I want something really freaky.
River: I’m listening.
Deanna: The tattooed arm.
River: Are you drinking already?
Deanna: You really think I need to be tipsy to admit I find you sexy?
A part of me does. A part of me is the awkward kid in my room at Grandma’s house, drawing blonde princesses because that’s as close as I can get to the object of my affection.
A part of me is still attached to her, will always be attached to her.
But the other part is ready to let go.
It doesn’t want a blonde princess.
It doesn’t want to hold onto anything.
I don’t want to stay on the sidelines and observe.
I want this. Her. Tonight.
It’s terrifying. How can I trust my own desires if they change so quickly? But then again, maybe they haven’t. Maybe it’s just that one part of me, the one that will always adore Lexi, holding onto the only familiar thing he has.
I could stay in tonight, draw until it makes sense. But, for once, I don’t want to examine my feelings. I want to act. I need something warm and vibrant and real.
I lay my arm over the dash and snap a photo. It’s not the most artistic shot, and it’s not the most well lit. A million better versions enter my mind.
My arm around her waist. Her chest. Her neck.
Between her legs.
But then she’s not here. I’m here. In a public place for fuck’s sake.
I need to do this with subtlety.
A tease for a tease.
I place my hand on the button of my jeans and snap a photo. The angle is a little awkward, but it’s more interesting than my arm on the dash.
I send.
Woosh.
Deanna: Tease.
River: Always.
Deanna: Don’t say you didn’t ask for this.
A minute later, she sends a photo, from her nose to her chest. Sparkly pink fabric covers her pale skin. Thin straps. A low neckline.
Not at all Deanna, but sexy all the same.
River: Do you like it?
Deanna: You’re supposed to say something about how desperately you want me.
River: I want you desperately.
Deanna: Better.
River: Leave now. Meet me somewhere.
Deanna: I promised Lexi I’d go out with her.
River: Can I convince you?
Deanna: Can you?
She leaves the offer hanging in the air.
There are things I can say, promises I can make, promises I’m tempted to make. Let’s drive to that make-out spot and fuck in the back seat. Let’s go to your room and test drive your bed.
Let’s skinny dip in your pool.
I don’t care, as long as I can feel you.
But I can’t promise to let go, put her first, disappear into the moment. Not right now. Reality occupies too much of my mind.
Not just the bigger situation with Grandma, not just her sickness, but the discussion I need to have with her.
She isn’t going to like it, and I have to get over that. Maybe then I can give Deanna the attention she deserves.
River: I’ll see you at ten.
Deanna: Until then.
She texts the address of the bar.