Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 117601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
I lean my forehead against his shoulder. “No ring.”
There is expectation in the air. I guess this is my time to say something profound. But I don’t have anything to say. I’m not sure where my mind is at right now.
“Are you going to be looking at colleges while you’re here?” he asks, his tone guarded this time. We’ve both been hurt so much.
“Actually, I’m only here for a couple days.”
“Huh.” He rubs at his chin. “I see.”
I’m considering Tufts, Northeastern, and Boston University.
My heart tells me to tell him that the only reason I haven’t decided yet is that I am scared. So, so scared to finally have him. To lose him.
My heart tells me to drop to my knees and beg him to help me make a decision. What would be right? What would be the least painful? If only someone could tell me that if we were together tomorrow, no one else would lose their life. No one else would suffer.
But my heart is not in charge anymore. I can’t get a word out of my mouth. I can’t even begin to think what to say.
“Right.” Joe steps back, whipping his head around to look at the entrance door. “Shall we?”
We both walk inside. The place looks familiar and yet strange. Nora has moved all her things out at this point—the fact that she still pays half the rent is insane to me. It’s just my stuff and the cursed sofa we got at the flea market together.
“I’ll tackle the bedroom; you can pack the kitchen. Everything goes to charity. Other than expired food. That goes to the trash.” I clap my hands together.
“No offense, Ev, but the place stinks.”
“None taken.” I smile. “And that makes sense. No one’s been here in months.”
Eight months, to be exact. Has it really been almost a year since Dom passed away?
Joe hooks his phone to his Bluetooth. The Smiths blast through the speakers.
“Morrissey!” I raise my fist in the air.
“I’d tattoo his name on my ass if he asked me. True story.” Joe is already deep inside the kitchen, tossing things into a huge black garbage bag.
It is pathetic, how few things I have. Joe and I take three hours to have everything tucked away in boxes, labeled, and ready to be handed off to the nearest Salvation Army branch. We’re sweaty and panting as we stand in an empty living room, save for that damn couch.
“When did you say your friend is going to pick it up?” I jolt my chin to the couch.
“Dale?” Joe glances at the time on his phone. “We still have about two hours. He works at the docks with me. Gets off at six.”
Folding my arms over my chest, I look at the couch. “I used to get so mad at Nora and Colt whenever they had sex on this thing. I felt sexually harassed. Is that weird?”
Joe chuckles. “Depends. Were you on the couch while they were porking?”
“Aw, no.”
“In that case, no harassment. Jealousy, maybe.”
“You’re a vile man, Joseph Graves.”
“And you love it, Everlynne Lawson.”
We both glance at each other, smirking. I’m the first to break the invisible barrier between us. I reach with my pinkie to touch his. It’s just a brush, but it does the trick. Goose bumps roll over my skin. His cheeks pink.
“Thanks for being there for me,” I whisper.
He smiles but doesn’t say anything. His pinkie laces with mine. I suck in a breath. We stand like this, barely touching, the music coming from the Bluetooth bouncing against the empty walls. “This Charming Man.” Such an underrated song. Joe clenches his pinkie through mine and tugs me to him. I let out a gasp, my body colliding with his. His mouth is on mine. His hands are in my hair. We are kissing like two crazed people in the middle of the empty living room, panting and moaning. He wraps his hands around me, backs me to the couch, and gives me a shove until I fall on top of it.
“What are you doing?” I ask, reaching for his belt.
“Making sure Dale gets a couch with an interesting life story.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Dale shows up for the couch. He looks about seven years old. Okay, more like seventeen. Still a baby, though. He and Joe do the bro hug and elaborate handshake.
“Where’ve you been, man?” Dale asks.
Joe hands him a cigarette, then ruffles his hair. “Took a little trip to Cali.”
“What’d you lose there?” Dale frowns.
Joe jerks his thumb toward me. “This smart-ass. Dale, this is Ever. Ever, this is Dale.”
We shake hands. I smile. It is surprisingly easy to smile after feeling Joe’s weight against mine. Dale asks, “Is Ever your real name?”
“No. I just really like to be asked about it a thousand times.”
Dale and Joe both laugh. I’ve got my sass back. This is huge. I haven’t sassed in a long time.