Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
“What plans?” I ask him.
“Maybe we go to dinner and you tell me your story?” he suggests, taking a quick peek at me.
Shaking my head and ignoring my racing heart, I answer quickly, “So, you want to be bored to death?”
“I know there’s something there,” he says and I feel like a monster. Guilt and regret creep up my body in a slow wave.
“Nothing that’s interesting.”
“You don’t always have to brush things off. It’s okay to let someone in, you know?” As he talks, he periodically looks at me. Like he’s gauging my reaction.
“I think I’m good.”
“It took a lot for me to tell you about my mom. You could open up a little too.”
“I did that once. Like I said, I think I’m good,” I tell him as I pull my knees to my chest, stretching the seat belt over them and looking out of the window.
“I’m guessing it didn’t end well?” he says.
“Nope.” My answer is simple, my voice high pitched and peppy, but inside I’m screaming. Inside it hurts. All the pain is wound up and coiled into barbed wire, cutting me open and wishing I would spill it all. I told my mom. And it was supposed to get better. She was supposed to make it all better.
“Well, who was it you told?” He’s keeping his voice light and acting like he’s just making small talk, but I can see right through him.
“No one you know,” I tell him and feel guilty for not confiding in him. I usually don’t care if I disappoint someone, but Dean is different.
“You know how I just said it’s okay to let people in?” he reminds me with a smirk and then rests his hand on my thigh when I don’t respond. He rubs his fingers back and forth in soothing strokes. Like he’s comforting me. It feels like a setup.
Silence greets me, backs me into a corner. Waiting for me to make the next move.
“It’s not fair that you decided to make this trip a fucking therapy session.”
His laugh is brief before he replies, “Life’s a therapy session, Allie Cat.” He doesn’t move his hand, he just keeps it on my thigh and I find myself wanting to put my hand on top of his and run my thumb along his knuckles.
“Sam … Sam is who I let in.” I give him that small bit of information even though it’s not quite what he asked. He asked who I told. I gave him who I let in. Big difference, but he doesn’t need to know that. Hearing her name makes me feel like I’ve betrayed her. Has it been that long since I’ve said her name out loud?
“What’d he do?” Dean asks and I let out a genuine laugh, pretending the tears in the corners of my eyes are from humor.
“Sam as in Samantha.”
“Oh, a chick?” Dean leans forward and then relaxes back in his seat, clearly not expecting that. “So, was this like, a thing?” he asks me, and the smile stays plastered on my lips.
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m only into dick.”
“Got it,” Dean says. “She was a friend?”
I just nod and look back out the window although I don’t really see anything. Blurs of scenary as we make our way along the highway. I remember when Sam and I met in preschool. We were so young and stupid, fighting over some rainbow eraser until the teacher took it away and made us share a plain one. Back when everything was okay, and we were just kids. When “best friends for life” meant something special.
“What was she like?” he asks me. Dean isn’t getting the hint but for some reason, I like it. Maybe it’s the memories or the soothing sound of the engine rumbling and the wind passing by the car. Or maybe it’s just been a while since I’ve thought of Sam back before the night that changed everything happened.
It takes me a moment to think of the best way to answer him. “A lot like me,” I start, although it’s not quite right. I’m just pretending to be a lot like her.
“Big boobs. She was gifted with them.” I add that difference humorously and I think about stopping there, but I don’t. “She had the most beautiful smile and laugh. She used to joke that she was going to be a dentist because everyone would pay big bucks for a smile like hers. And she laughed at everything and it was real.” I remember how happy she always was. “She was just a very confident, happy person.”
“Sounds like a good friend,” he says after a moment.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” I scold him when I notice he’s spending more time looking at me than he is paying attention to driving.
“What happened?” he asks me.