Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Just be you. Don’t stress. How could he not like you?
I could only think of the ways. But I didn’t want them to come to the front of my mind. Instead, I moved to the other missed message or messages, as well as calls—all of them from Augusta.
Message 1: I don’t like it when we fight. Can we talk?
Message 2: Odette, are you at your place? I have ice cream.
Message 3: I see you are ignoring me, but at least hear me out, okay?
I didn’t want to read the rest. However, just as I was about to put the phone away, it started to flash. I had silenced it earlier, so I didn’t notice the notifications. Of course, it was Augusta calling. She always did this when we fought—called repeatedly and bugged me until I ended up forgiving her.
“Can I help you, Mrs. Washington?” I answered.
“Wow, you are really upset.” She made it sound like all she had done was steal my favorite shirt.
“I’m really busy, Augusta. Please stop blowing up my phone.”
“Busy? With what?”
I opened my mouth to say something but stopped. “It’s none of your business, and I have to go—”
“I paid part of your donations,” she said quickly, and I wasn’t sure if she was trying to help or make me angry.
“Why? Are you hoping I won’t rush off to get married then?”
“Seriously, Odette! What happened to not fighting with each other?”
“I’m not trying to fight. I’m trying to get off the phone, which I am doing now. Bye,” I said quickly before hanging up. Part of me—the part of me that really wanted to believe that she was just being a good sister—felt bad, but the other part of me couldn’t shake the doubt. It happened, and I needed space. I would talk with her about all of this, just not now.
Flattening my dress and fixing one of my curls, I tried to put a smile on my face. It was too much of a smile and looked I was cringing, so I just gave up and went out. Only to find Gale standing away from our table and closer to the windows, looking out. I wasn’t sure what he was staring at until I focused more on the actual view and not his back and the bottom of his neck right above the collar.
Get it together, Odette. I walked up to the table to drop off my stuff before going to stand beside him to get a closer look.
“It snows early here,” he said beside me. “Normally, in Ersovia, it does not snow until almost or right after Christmas.”
“It doesn’t snow that often here, either. It’s the first snowfall of the season. It’s beautiful,” I said, leaning toward the glass.
“Why is winter your favorite season?” he asked me.
I glanced up at him and met his gaze, which was now completely focused on me. His body even turned from the windows.
“You read that from my file?”
“Yes, but it did not tell me why.”
I tried to think of how to explain it. “It feels magical, and you see the best in people.”
“When they are frozen?”
“No. Remember earlier when you said I look at the end?”
He nodded.
“That is what winter is, the end of the year, and with that, people change. People look back at what they went through and want to go out with a bang. People are hopeful for the new year, new chances and new beginnings. Everyone makes a wish for something at Christmas. Everyone has a New Year’s resolution and tell themselves they can, and they will, by any means, do it. Winter is like a shot of adrenaline, and we can do anything.”
“Okay, but then right as winter is coming to an end, the adrenaline wears off, and people realize they are not much better off than last year.”
I glared at him. “Are you just trying to rain all over my explanation? That was good. You could have used that in poetry.”
“Far too cheesy.” He grinned, and I just knocked elbows with him, causing him to laugh.
I wanted to ignore him, but he offered me his hand. I looked at him, not sure what he wanted.
“Dance with me.”
“Dance?” Where did that come from?
“You said it was the first snowfall. We should celebrate it and end our night on a high note, right?” he explained. “Or would you like to end it with powdering your nose.”
“You make me want to kick you. You know that?” I snapped.
“You are not the only one.” He snickered and brought his hand closer. “Come on, what could it hurt?”
“I could step on your toes. These shoes are starting to kill me.”
He glanced down at my feet. “Then take them off.”
He said it like, duh. And it was kind of funny. Taking his hand and holding onto him, I stepped out of them and shrank by four and a half inches. Once free from my feet prisons, he led me away from the window.