Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Stop staring!!!! You’re going to make me laugh!
I smile and shake my head, before reaching for my own piece of paper. I can’t find anything to write with, so I motion for her to throw me the pen. She makes a face, before tossing it over - a horrible throw that I barely catch.
You’re a terrible throw, I scribble and hold up the sheet, adoring the face she makes upon reading my words.
I take it down and turn it over. I’m gonna keep on staring though, because you’re pretty!!
She laughs a lovely sound that echoes in the room. “Do we still have to be quiet?” She whispers.
“Yes,” I whisper back. “Come sit on my lap so I can hear you better.”
“Get outta here,” she throws her head back in a fit of laughter.
When I get back to my office during my free period, my phone is lighting up with missed text messages. They’re all from Luci, and the last one is asking me to come over after school.
To your house? I reply, shocked.
Her response is instant. Yes lol!
What about Gracie and your parents? I hope I’m not convincing her I don’t want to go, because I do, but I’m not sure her parents would react kindly to seeing me with her.
Parents are working and Gracie is auditioning for the school play.
Shouldn’t you be teaching now?
I wish! She has me stapling papers! I’ve been sentenced to busy work.
I’m sorry.
Well I guess it IS sort of your fault. You’re a real Don Juan.
Everything is my fault!
I think she may have gotten upset after my last joking text, since she doesn’t answer again, and as soon as the last bell rings, I rush outside and wait by my car.
Minutes pass, and I watch as the crowds of students swarm out of the school towards the buses and student parking lots.
Finally, I spot Luci as she walks outside. Our eyes meet and a silent agreement passes between us.
I follow behind her in my car, nervous as hell. It won’t be bad, as long as like she says, no one is home. I’m just not ready for another parent reaction after my Mother’s, and my mind is racing the entire way to her house.
I haphazardly shut my car off, not getting out until she does. We go in through the garage and head upstairs.
“Do you want something to drink?” She opens the fridge.
“I’m good, thanks,” I try not to be too obvious as I look around. “Is this the house you grew up in?”
“Born and raised,” she smiles. “I know its sort of old looking.”
“No!” I insist. “It’s homey,” I smile. “I love it.”
She laughs, and we fall silent. I head into the next room while she pours herself a drink, which turns out to be the living room. I stop and stare at all at the family pictures hanging up, which are mostly of her and her sister.
She exhales loudly as she walks into the room. “This is sort of embarrassing,” she blushes.
“Why?” I try to hide my beaming smile as I approach her.
“I never pictured you in my house,” she laughs. “Seeing my baby pictures.”
I don’t stop until I’m standing right in front of her, her eyes vibrant and alive.
“Can I see your room?” I whisper.
She looks away, biting her lip, and I groan in response.
“Will you behave Mr. Harrington?” She asks through hooded eyes.
“Not when you look at me like that.” I can’t help my hand as I brush a piece of hair off her face. Or my other one, as it lands on her hip. I’ve stolen a couple of touches here and there during our outings, and even some during our lunches, and she has too, but none as obvious as this.
“I just want to see your books.” I give her my most convincing smile, and she closes her eyes, leaning in. “Please,” I breathe, rubbing my thumb against the side of her hip.
It’s been just over a month since my sister’s engagement party, and I know she’s been aching for something to happen, even though she won’t admit it.
“Okay,” she gives in.
“You cave so easily,” I joke, hooking my arm around her.
“Shut up,” she gives me a light shove, and I take her hand, just like she did with me this past Sunday when we went to dinner. She doesn’t let go, and soon she’s pulling me up the stairs and towards her bedroom.
She opens the door, and I immediately head inside while she waits in the doorway.
“Wow, do you have a lot of books!” There’s shelf after shelf, and while I expected a lot, I didn’t anticipate this many.
“A lot of them are still in boxes,” she says proudly, and I notice the pile up in the corner. “I’m still unpacking my dorm stuff.”
I want to see everything, but I look back towards her, because I want to see her most of all. “Why are you still in the doorway?”