Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 125121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
My eyes fluttered shut. “I wonder if this is what it’s like in the womb.”
“What? Where did that come from?”
I giggled. “You said you wanted more of my unique perspective. Feeling this warm, calm, and safe. This must be what babies feel. Then, one day, they’re forced out into the cold and uncertainty of life, and have to figure it all out on their own. It’s kind of cruel when you think about it,” I mused. “We go from this time of complete peace to randomness, chaos, and violence, and we don’t get to remember the first part.”
“All we’d remember is the darkness.”
I whispered so low, the wind may have snatched it before it reached him. “That’s all I know now.”
A beat passed, then my eyes snapped open. A pinkie curled around mine—so subtle and soft, my mind tried to trick me that it wasn’t there.
But he was.
I held still—not breathing. Not looking at him. Just linked mine around his in turn under that warm sun on the tickling beach.
Adonis was right. We didn’t need to speak.
We lay there for so long, I think I fell asleep. The next thing I knew, he was sitting up, clearing his throat.
“Come on,” he said, hand sliding away from mine. “Your stomach’s been growling since we got in the car. Let’s get something to eat.”
I stood, dusting myself off as he headed up the bank without me. “Wish we didn’t have to go so soon,” I said. “Could we get something and bring it back?”
“Easily. We’ll grab something inside.”
Then I understood why he was walking so fast and not looking at me. I bit real hard on my lip, not allowing even a grunt to slip out and make him change his mind.
The beach house was even cuter up close. I envied the wraparound porch and all the nights I imagined he sat on the chair swing, sipping a beer and listening to the crashing waves while he read.
We lived a simple life before Mom met Jack. Then I lived a utilitarian life in Catholic school. The stolen summers in between where I joined my folks on fancy vacations, yachts, and international hotels felt like what they were—vacations. None of it ever seemed like a life that could be mine. When I did picture my future, it always looked something like—
“This,” I breathed.
I spun in the entryway, taking it all in at once. Adonis skipped the beach house standard blue-and-white décor. A freestanding fireplace claimed the middle of the living room. Black and gray squashy, warm couches and armchairs surrounded it—a home where a family sat around talking in front of the fire, instead of vegging in front of the television.
Nearly every wall was a bookcase, and nearly every book in the world was stuffed on their shelves. I padded over wood-paneled floors, leaving grains of sand like breadcrumbs. Adonis just followed me, watching me take it all in—a small grin riding his lips.
“Like it?”
“Love it.” I twirled under a chandelier of twisted iron vines. “It’s a book-lover’s paradise.” Something caught my eye. “And you don’t just have stuffy books. I loved Percy Jackson when I was a kid— Oooh, you have The Broken Earth series too.”
“I’m not one of those English professors who believe literature ended a hundred years ago. But I take exception to stuffy books. The classics are a classic for a reason.”
I blew a raspberry. “The classics are a classic because a bunch of white privileged English-speaking men decided what other white privileged English-speaking men had to say about the world, was the only thing worth reading. Admit it, you didn’t like The Great Gatsby either.”
“Are you kidding me?” The man sounded ready to fight. “The Great Gatsby is a scathing and insightful look into class, greed, and the lie of the American Dream.”
“The Great Gatsby is a scathing look into what the author truly thought of women. They were such flighty, self-absorbed, cardboard cutouts that one thought the only way out of a marriage she hated was with a married sugar daddy who broke her nose.
“And the other got the fun dilemma of choosing between a cheating, abusive bastard of a husband, and an old flame that saw her as a moth to attract with glitz, glam, and pretty things. Heaven forbid anyone see or treat her as an actual person rather than a trophy. Worse, she wished the same for her daughter.” I flared out my dress like I was going to curtsy. “Lucky for women and minorities, we get to keep reading these sexist and racist stereotypes, and even better, are expected to like them because they’re the classics.”
Adonis reeled back, eyes blown. “I can’t— That isn’t— To reduce— I can’t even speak to you right now,” he said, turning away.
Giggling, I chased after him. “’Cause you know I’m right, Professor.” I attacked his sides, ripping a yelp out of him. Darting off, Adonis was hot on my heels.