Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
And more importantly: Is she happy now?
“I kissed Samuel last night.”
Cole only stares back at me. Did he hear the words? Did the storm drown them out?
“He kissed me,” I clarify. “But … I guess that doesn’t make a difference, now does it? I’m still scum. Don’t say anything,” I blurt out the second I see his lips move. I’m not even sure he was going to say anything. “I just need you to realize the kind of guy you’re trying to court here.” I press a hand to my mouth to stop a hiccup. It doesn’t quite work. “I’m not worth it. I never was.”
“Malcolm …”
“I’m sorry you had the—” Another hiccup? Nope. False alarm. “—the unfortunate luck of being set up with me by Nadine. What a nightmare. You’ll be biting this bullet long after I’m outta town. The overzealous woman is zero for zero. I think she ought to stick to the mayor stuff and let her matchmaking career die a quick, clean, merciful death.”
Lightning flashes in our face. I find myself picturing my mom again, her face on one of the last days she was in the house, before she ran away. The look of pain, of loss, of confusion.
That expression on her face feels so familiar to me now, like a poem I read once a long time ago.
I wonder if it’s my expression now. “I gotta go.”
“Wait a minute, Malcolm. It’s okay,” he tells me as the storm intensifies, booming, crashing, raging. “Listen to me. I know—”
“Nothing’s okay. Nothing will ever be okay again. I’m so sorry, Cole.”
I slip from his grasp and flee through the church door.
Chapter 15
Wine-Wasted.
Cole calls out to me, but I’m already in the blinding darkness of the storm. Soon, his cries are just wind in my ears as I push through the raindrops crashing over my face. I don’t know where I am going. Spruce is such a small place, from what I understand, I doubt I’ll be lost for long. I could probably take a turn one way and end up at the park, turn the other way and end up at Biggie’s Bites, turn around and end up right back at the church.
What looms in front of me instead is a tiny light.
It calls out to me like the moon in the sky, or a twinkling star I wished on as a child … or an old buzzing streetlamp.
It turns out to be the light on a front porch.
Wait. A front porch …
A front porch near the church …
Something familiar clicks in my mind.
The world flashes around me. A boom shakes the earth. I walk toward the tiny beam of light, which grows bigger as I approach. Soon, hard wooden steps are beneath my wet, heavy feet. Under the covering of the porch, I experience a brief reprieve from the rain on top of my head, though the harsh wind keeps carrying it sideways like tiny rubber bands snapping against my back.
I bring my knuckles to the door and knock once, twice, then over and over again without end.
The door swings open on the thirty-third knock. “What in the ever-lovin’—?” cries Samuel, answering in just a plain white shirt and gray sweatpants.
I push my way inside, grab his face, and kiss him.
The world becomes complete again. We are resuming that hot moment we started last night, right from where we left off.
I feel him kissing me back, wanting it, too.
His intoxicating lips.
His strength.
Then he pushes me away with a start. “What the hell’s goin’ on here?” he cries. “You’re soakin’ wet!”
“Obviously. Did you know it’s raining outside? Are you aware? Hey, why’d you stop kissing me? C’mon.” I lunge after him again.
His grip on my arms tightens, stopping me. “You’re drunk and gettin’ water all over the place.”
“Seven hundred glasses of wine, apparently.”
“I believe it.”
“I’m a lightweight, and Cole can count. These are facts I have learned tonight. I may also have … not eaten much today. Like, at all.” I frown. “Stop pushing me away and kiss me already.”
He sighs. “Alright, stay here. Don’t make any more of a mess than you already have. I’m gonna get you some towels to dry off, put on a pot of coffee, make you something to eat, and then you and I are gonna talk. Take off your shoes. You’re tracking stuff in.” He heads off.
“Eat? Talk? Pffthth.” I roll my eyes as I stagger, kicking off my shoes one by one. “I just came from a stupid dinner.”
“Which you didn’t eat,” Samuel reminds me from somewhere.
“So? You’re gonna feed me now? Are you my daddy?”
“I am definitely not your daddy.”
“Coffee? Eat? That is so lame. I’m not here to talk and eat. I’m here to kiss you so hard I can’t—” I grip my head. “—feel my face.”
Samuel returns to my side with a towel, which he puts over my back and promptly begins drying my hair. I make just half an effort to push his hands off my head, but he keeps on. “You only want to kiss hard enough so you don’t feel sad. And that’s not how I kiss.” I reach for his mouth again. He keeps me at bay, gripping my head with the towel. “Hey, Malcolm, c’mon, behave.”