Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
“Okay,” I say, looking at the clothes covering his couch.
“Well, then, by the time I looked around, I just don’t know where any of this shit goes,” he says, taking a sip of coffee and looking around to see if he can sit anywhere. “I didn’t even know I had half this stuff.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, walking to the kitchen table and seeing that he has about ten different tablecloths. “Didn’t you buy this stuff?” I run my hands over the tablecloths, thinking maybe an ex did, and then having a need to just toss it out and have him start everything fresh.
“No”—he shakes his head—“I had a designer who did all this.” Well, then, the tablecloths can stay.
“I think the first thing you need to do is put away the big things,” I say, going to the counter. “Like this Kitchen Aid mixer.”
“It has ten different pieces,” he says, throwing up one hand. “Ten.” I laugh at the way he tries to flash his hand twice to give me a picture of ten.
“Well, because you can use it ten different ways,” I tell him and see the frazzled look on his face. “Have you ever used it?”
“Zoe.” He says my name almost like he’s groaning, and I have the sudden image in my head of what he would sound like if I perhaps put his cock in my mouth.
I blink and try to erase the image from my head. “I’m trying not to judge you.” I try to roll my lips together. “How do I know you’re not some secret baker?” I can’t hold it in anymore.
“Are you done?” he asks.
“It’s too early to tell.” I look over at another machine. “Ten bucks if you know what this is.” He looks at the machine in my hand and stutters. “It’s an electric juicer. Usually for orange or lemon,” I tell him, and he looks at me like I have two heads. “Zara made me do her registry with her.” He gets up and comes to me and takes it in his hand. “Now, I take it you’ve never used it.”
“No, but it would be cool to use,” he says, and I shake my head.
I grab a box. “This box is going to be stuff to donate.”
“That’s a good idea,” he says. “God, I’m glad I called you,” he says with a smile on his face, and just like that, the little devil in my head whispers to me.
“You like him.”
No, I don’t. I’m just his friend.
Keep lying to yourself, is the last thing I listen to before I finish helping him.
Chapter Fifteen
Viktor
“What you need to do is look at things and think about the last time you used it,” she says, holding up … I don’t even know what she is holding up. All I know is it’s white and you plug it in. “If you don’t even know what it is, you donate it.” She puts it in the box.
The past couple of days have been a clusterfuck. I’ve been all over the place, attending two meetings a day. I thought getting back on the ice would calm things but not after my fuckup in the first game. Yes, I did come back and score to tie the game, but the pressure was so much. I was drenched every single night I woke up after just sleeping for three hours at a time. I’d get up, unpack a couple of things in my bedroom, and then go back to bed. This morning, I rolled out of bed and had a plan, a plan in my head that was going to be awesome. I was going to unpack everything and then place everything accordingly. Well, fifty-seven boxes later, my house looked like a tornado. I didn’t know who to call because I didn’t want to bother anyone really. But that nagging voice in the back of my head kept chanting her name, so I caved and called her.
“Yes,” I tell her. “It’ll be easier that way and maybe”—I pick up something else I don’t know—“you can help me by naming things.”
She shakes her head. “No, if you can’t name them, that means you aren’t going to use them.” She takes the tool out of my hand. “By the way, this is a hand blender.”
I look at it before it disappears into the box. “Interesting,” I say.
“Who should we donate this stuff to?” she asks, waiting for me to pick up the next item.
“I have no idea,” I say, grabbing another item.
“There are a bunch of people you can donate to. Women’s shelter, homeless shelter.”
“We can donate to the people who are coming out of rehab.” I look at her. “You know sober living places.”
She nods. “Yeah, that’s a good one. Plus, it will mean more to you if it’s close to your heart.”