Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
“You really think so, huh?”
“Try me.”
He tilted his head back, looking up at the sky for a moment before looking back down to me. “Okay,” he said, reaching for my hand. He grabbed it, leading me toward the steps. “You’re going to come see where I live, then. And if you head for the hills afterward, then it was nice knowing you.”
Finally. Finally he was going to start to let me in on his real life.
I let Jamie pull me along the sand and rocks back over toward the little staircase. He picked up his shirt from a little pile of stuff, tugging it on again and sliding on his socks and shoes.
“Sorry if my shirt smells like french fry grease,” he said as we walked up the stairs.
“It smells like a heavenly mix of cinnamon and sugar, actually.”
“Oh, right,” he said. “I was helping make a batch of cinnamon syrup at the end of the night.”
We started walking away from the coast, up narrow streets full of parked cars and bungalow beach houses. It certainly wasn’t the ritziest part of a beach town I’d seen, but it wasn’t anywhere near bad. It was cute, and quaint, and even the streets a bit further east were still kissed by the sea-breeze air from the ocean.
Jamie held my hand the whole time, leading me down a quiet street filled with more small homes.
“I feel like I’m in high school again,” I admitted as he led me along. “Holding hands, walking home with someone.”
“You’re right,” he told me. “Why does it feel like we’re breaking some rule? In a good way, like we found a loophole?”
“Because we both thought we might never see each other again,” I mused quietly, giving his hand a squeeze. “And here we are.”
I tugged him to a stop, pulling him toward me and wrapping my arms around him. I kissed him again, and he moaned softly at the surprise.
“Needed this again,” I murmured against his lips. “Sorry for derailing us on our journey.”
“I’m not complaining,” he said. “Derail me all you want.”
I hummed softly, kissing his earlobe. “If I did it as much as I want, I think we’d end up in my bed for the rest of our lives, and that’s just not productive for either of us.”
He turned his head to the side, catching my lower lip between his teeth. He gently gave it a tug, and I sighed.
“You taste like honey,” he said softly.
“I had some sort of calming tea in the car on the way down,” I admitted. “Felt like I was going to jump out of my own skin with nerves. Not that the tea really did anything.”
“Other than make you smell and taste amazing.”
“Worth it, then.”
“Come on,” Jamie said, breaking off again and leading me down the street. “We’re almost there. I have to show you now, or else I’ll never want to.”
A few more houses down the way, he turned and walked up a little pathway in front of one of the homes. It was small like all the rest, and some of the plants in the front were certainly in need of a trim, but overall it looked like any other adorable beach house. We got to the door and he led me inside, and in the living room, his roommates were watching some reality TV show.
“Oh, hey,” one of them said.
“Hey, Marcus. Hi, Nicole. This is Landry.”
“Nice to meet you, dude,” Marcus said, reaching out to shake my hand. He was wearing a backwards hat and a basketball jersey. The other roommates looked like they were already passed out on the other couch. “Feel free to come chill and watch shit out here.”
“We’re just going to hang out in my room. Thank you, though.” Jamie nodded once, taking me down the short hall to his room at the end. I glimpsed the kitchen on the way down, and noticed that it was a bit cluttered, but nothing too bad.
And when I stepped into Jamie’s room and he turned on a little lamp by the bed, I was speechless for a moment.
He shut the door softly behind us, and I looked at one of the coziest rooms I could imagine.
“Holy shit,” I said, glancing around. “Did you do all of this?”
The room wasn’t just any small bedroom. It looked like it had been carefully considered for years. There were shelves on the far wall opposite the bed—very simple planks of wood that were covered in various books, objects, photos, and art. There was a small chair and desk under a window, just the right size to fit next to the bed. The walls were painted a dusky, dark, calming blue, and with the glow of the lamp, it felt like a haven.
“Just about everything you see in here was either something I made from scrap wood, something handed down from my mom, or random finds from garage sales and secondhand shops,” Jamie said. “It was a lot emptier for the first year or two that I was here, but slowly, it’s become what it is.”