Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
They are a little cliché, but whatever.
It Works If You Work It!
Shit like that.
I’m scrolling through a blog post some guy wrote about overcoming his addiction when a text from Felix comes through. There’s an image attached.
hello :)
I stare at the picture he sent.
It’s Felix in a mirror.
He’s holding the phone up so most of his face is blocked. I can only see one eye and half of his mouth, the beginning of a smile. His curls are messy on his forehead. He’s in a bedroom. His bedroom.
He sent me a selfie.
Maybe he didn’t mean to send that to me?
did you mean to send that to me?
yeah
Okay. Not a mistake.
i’ll tell u why next time i see u
you can’t tell me now?
it’s a long story
so?
i gotta get up early. i’m going to bed
Well, shit.
I need to get up early too. Really early. I need to be at the shop by five. I should be turning in now so I’m not completely dead tomorrow. Or worse—late. CJ’s brother-in-law hired me as a favor, and I can’t fuck up this job.
And yet, I’m willing to stay up and hear this long story. There’s a reason Felix sent me a selfie. And I’m intrigued.
can’t you just give me the short version?
hru? still good?
i’m fine
good tty tmr :) good night
FFS. not even a HINT?
hello?
FELIX
hello :)
what’s the short version of the story?
i would rather tell u all of it
so tell me
later
or now
*yawning* so tired g’night
really
fuckitfine good night
r u scowling. i bet ur scowling
JUST TELL ME
call?
yeah whatever
I answer at the beginning of the first ring. “What?”
His laughter is muffled. “You are scowling so bad right now.”
“Would you just tell me so I can sleep?”
“You won’t be able to sleep if I don’t tell you?”
“What? No. I don’t know.” I adjust the pillow underneath my head. “Probably not. It’ll bother me.”
“Fine. But you’re getting the short version. I really do need to go to bed.”
“Yeah, well, so do I.”
“I’ll give you the long version another day.”
“Great. Wonderful.” I slap the bed beside me when he doesn’t speak for six, seven, eight seconds. “Would you get on with it already? What are you doing?”
“But the suspense,” he whispers.
“I’m hanging up.”
“No, okay fine. Jeez. I feel like I’m talking this up too much and you’ll think I’m stupid.” He clears his throat. I hear the squeak of a mattress. “Okay so, short version: I haven’t always had the best self-esteem, and selfies are just something I do now because they help me. It’s a therapy thing. And I send them to people because that helps me too. With my confidence and stuff.”
I don’t know what I was expecting Felix to say, but that is probably the furthest from it.
“Okay. You get one question and then I’m going to bed,” he says.
One? That’s it?
I have at least five loaded up and ready.
“Fuck,” I mumble. “Uh. Give me a minute.”
“Don’t overthink this. Just ask me something. Quickly. Go.”
“Why don’t you like yourself? Or why didn’t you?”
“Huh.”
“What.”
“I’m surprised that’s the question you’re asking.”
“Well, it is.” I feel myself frown. “Why? What should I be asking?”
“I don’t know. I’m tired.” He yawns into the phone. “See?”
“I have a feeling you’re playing that up.”
“Maybe. Anyway, I’ve always been this skinny kid. I’m super pale. I can’t ever tan. Like, ever. I’ve tried. I was lanky and awkward in middle school, and I got picked on for it. My hair didn’t help.”
“What’s wrong with your hair?”
“Well, it’s not as bad as it was, but it used to be this frizzy mess that stuck out all over the place. Kids used to joke and say I looked like I got electrocuted. I’ve had stupid curly hair forever.”
I think about the beanie. His beanie. And the way I made him feel yesterday because of it.
“There’s nothing wrong with your hair, Felix. It’s cute. Okay?”
I say that way too fast. I don’t have a shot at preventing it from slipping out.
And I’m not sure I would’ve stopped myself from saying it anyway.
“Cute?” he asks.
Fuck.
“I should go.”
“Did you just say my hair is cute, Jake?”
He’s smiling. Grinning probably. I can hear it in his voice.
“We both need to get up early. And I’m tired. Like, crazy tired.” I force a yawn.
“I feel like you’re playing that up.”
I don’t tell him maybe like he did to me. I’m owning this.
I yawn again. “No. So tired. Falling asleep while talking to you. Phone slipping out of my hand…”
“I’m not forgetting this,” he promises.
“Awesome. Good night.”
I hang up on his laugh.
KISS HERE
JAKE
I SEE FELIX Tuesday night when we meet up at a meeting, and it doesn’t slip past me that he’s decided against wearing that beanie. He knows how I feel about his hair now because I so very, very easily shared my opinion, and he promised me he wouldn’t forget it. But even if I didn’t have a damn good idea why he goes without it the first time we see each other after that last conversation, the flush reddening his entire face and spreading down his neck when I walk up would’ve given me a clue.