Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 84952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
I came home, obtained a notepad and pencils, and went to town trying to capture that summer on paper.
I still am.
The sun coming through the window warms my skin. I set the paper down and sit quietly in the warmth of the rays. The light makes the wallpaper I hung last winter almost shine. Sebastian hated the idea and refused to help me. He also hated the navy background with the cerulean damask design.
My heart sinks as I realize Sebastian not only hated the wallpaper but he also disliked most of the things that I love. At the root of it, he might have even disliked me.
In retrospect, I’m not sure he had the capacity for the kind of relationship that I’m after. I want something wild yet stable. I’m after a connection to someone who extends beyond attraction or social circles. I want a love like Bellamy’s grandparents, and a marriage like Aunt Siggy’s and Uncle Rodney’s.
I want something that’s going to last forever.
And that terrifies me.
A little ball lays in the bottom of my stomach, reminding me from time to time that the kind of love I’m after in life might not exist for everyone. It hasn’t come close for me—and not for lack of trying. Next to that ball lies another, slightly bigger one that houses the fear that I might find it someday, just as my mom found my dad. And that it might fall apart, just as it did between them.
“I need to take a few months and breathe,” I mumble to an empty room. “Get back into classes and finish my degree. Bellamy is right. There’s no need to add all kinds of pressure on myself about this. What is meant to be will be.”
I hope.
My phone buzzes on the little table next to the chaise, and a text from my mom lights up the screen.
Mom: I have you a date lined up for tomorrow night.
I don’t acknowledge her message with a response. Instead, I ignore it completely.
I stand and head to the window, wrapping a hand around the back of my neck. Stress builds at the bottom of my skull as I try to figure out how to deal with this stupid fundraiser. I know Siggy is right, and this does matter a lot to Mom. I know, too, that the holidays are even more problematic for her because it’s the time of year that she and my father separated so many years ago. I believe she stays so busy these last few weeks of the year so she doesn’t have to remember.
You need to pick your battles with her.
I nibble my bottom lip as I ponder choosing this battle. Fighting with her isn’t what I want; it never is. But it definitely isn’t the way I want to end the year.
Maybe if I just humor her now and then set firm boundaries in January …
The strain in the back of my neck eases just a bit.
But what do I do about my plus-one?
My body fills up with a warmth that overtakes me from head to toe as I think about Hollis.
“His name is even hot,” I say with a grin.
I turn from the window and mosey around my room.
So get him to be your date tomorrow.
A bubble of anxiety builds in my stomach as I contemplate Aunt Siggy’s suggestion.
Taking Hollis isn’t a good idea. I know it.
“If you want my number, I could give it to you in case you run into any more scenarios where you need a fake boyfriend. Or … whatever …”
Did he really mean that? Or was he just suggesting a hookup?
Given how he suggested that women complain when he only gave them five minutes, I’m going with a yes on the hookup.
But asking him to go with me tomorrow would have a definite starting and ending point. It would be a simple extenuation of the five minutes from the other night. And we would be in the presence of loads of other people, including my mom and Jack, which will dampen all things fun.
“And he’s not an athlete, I don’t think. I mean, he wasn’t wearing some stupid hoodie with a team logo on it, so he’s not even on my banned list,” I point out to myself. “What would it hurt to take him as a friend to an event?”
My brain turns into mush when he grins. My knees give out when he smirks.
Dear lord, that smirk.
I moan helplessly.
My phone rings, ending my daydream before it even gets started. I look down.
“Hi,” I say as I answer.
“Heya, Riss,” my cousin Boone says. “What are you up to?”
“Pondering life and the choices we have to make,” I say, sitting on the chair again.
He laughs. “That’s deep for two in the afternoon.”
I laugh along with him. “I’m guessing you’re doing something less … intense?”