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)
r u mad at me
no
u seem mad
I am kinda
why
we can’t do this Felix and I fucking want you
It’s not getting any easier
I sigh and stare at the phone, resting my head on the inside of my bicep.
He’s right. It really isn’t.
i want u too jake
so fucking much
I know you gotta call Dean if shit happens but can you call me too? Can I at least have that?
yes
yeah?
I’ll call u 2 i promise
good
give me a compliment
what?
I’ve spent hours cleaning up shit jake
please tell me something nice
ur so fucking hot
especially in those sweatpants
The smile on my face right now. I want him to see it.
I make sure the flash is on and send him a selfie, and I don’t mess with my hair at all before I do it.
That’s never happened before.
damn
<3
hate to end this but I gotta talk to my brother. he just got home
ok
good night Felix
good night jake
I fall asleep happy (surprisingly) and sleep better than I thought I would.
The worn leather of the couch conforms to my body and holds me like a hug, and I think I might’ve slept in if there wasn’t an asshole in my kitchen, banging shit around.
A cabinet slams. Silverware crashes to the floor. And I wonder if the entire drawer got dumped out and can just picture the mess as I tug the blanket over my head.
“Some people are trying to sleep!” I holler.
Heavy footsteps beat against the floor until my dad stops somewhere in the room, and his voice is grating when he asks, “Where’s all the booze, Felix?”
Of fucking course.
“I’m clean, Dad. Remember?”
“You don’t even drink anymore? What kind of pussy shit is that?”
He stomps up the stairs.
Annoyed, I fling the blanket off and sit up, my bare feet cold against the wood.
Rain pelts against the roof and keeps me sluggish and sleepy.
I love that sound.
I scrub at my face, yawning against my palms, and then I’m grabbing the blanket and pillow and heading toward the stairs so I can get ready for work, but a noise from the kitchen redirects me.
I stop as soon as I turn the corner and get an eye-full of ass-crack.
“Who the fuck are you?” I ask.
The dirty, bearded rando who’s rummaging through my fridge stays hunched over when he peers back at me. He shoves a handful of crumbled up pancake into his mouth.
“Get the fuck out of my house, man! Are you serious?”
The guy snarls and turns back to the fridge, pulls out the OJ and flicks off the cap with his thumb. It spins on the floor. He straightens up to chug the juice.
“Dad!” I yell.
Jesus Christ! Why is this my life?
“What,” my dad barks, walking past me, a jug of mouthwash in his grip.
“Do you know this guy?” I ask.
“Yeah. This is my buddy, Harold. He’s gonna be staying here for a while.”
What.
“The fuck he is.” When Harold glowers back at me while he chomps on a waffle, I say, “Dude. You gotta go. You’re not staying here.”
“This is my house too, Felix. I’m allowed to have guests.”
Dad grabs a mug out of the cabinet, fills it with coffee (and spills some all over the counter while he’s at it), then he twists off the cap to the mouthwash and tops off his drink.
I grimace when he sucks it down.
“Dad.”
He takes a seat at the table, ignoring me. “Bring that plate of eggs over here, Harold. The sausage too.”
“Dad.”
Harold pulls out a chair and joins my father, spreading out the leftovers I salvaged last night.
“Your friend can’t stay here,” I say. “This is my house.”
“Still waiting to see that deed, kid.” Dad pours mouthwash into the jug of OJ and says, “There you go, my friend. Drink up.”
I force breath out of my nose. “Fucking fine.”
He wants to see the deed? I’ll find it.
I stalk out of the room and up the stairs, relieved when the air doesn’t sting my eyes anymore.
That’s the only good thing about today so far. The smell is finally gone. Thank fuck.
Their laughter fills the entire house, and it’s so goddamn loud and wheezy. Both of them sound sick.
I’m so angry and anxious, I want to beat their asses.
I also feel like I could break apart and cry at any second, and if my dad sees tears, he’ll have a fucking field day.
The last thing I need right now is to be bullied.
After putting the blanket and spare pillow I used last night back into the hallway closet, I walk into my room to get dressed.
My breath hitches and I realize I’m the biggest fool.
How did I forget to lock the door?
My clothes are everywhere. The dresser drawers dumped, and everything pulled out of my closet and thrown around the room. It looks like my dad searched through everything I own.
I pick up the one-year sober chip I kept on my dresser and squeeze it inside my fist, then I spot my open wallet on the bed.