Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
A sound jars me from my position making snow angels on my bed. It’s coming from outside my window and is faintly familiar. I charge up from my bed and fling my bedroom window open, poking my upper body out as I lean over the windowsill.
Lev is here. He positioned himself outside my window, standing in the pouring rain with a boombox on his shoulder. “When Doves Cry” is playing on full blast. I scowl at him.
“People are sleeping here!” I chide him. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
He rolls his eyes, repositioning the boombox on his crazy huge deltoids. “At nine in the evening? I don’t think so. Come on down, Dove.”
“I can’t.” I bite down on my lower lip.
He nods, tapping his temple. “That’s right. Now I remember. You’re the only nineteen-year-old I know who’s grounded.”
I duck beneath my window, find something—a glittery pen—and toss it at him in retaliation. It is so first grade, laughter clogs my throat, but it’s something I had never allowed myself to do before. Just be silly.
“We’re playing like that, huh?” His eyebrows jump to the sky, and he puts the boombox down, shoves his hand into his pocket, and rummages for ammo.
He finds a black credit card. “Hope you’re ready for that papercut, Followhill!” He throws it at me.
He has a great throw—much to no one’s surprise—and it hits me right in the forehead. I gasp. He laughs. I pick up the book I’m reading—an honest to Marx sacred book—and hurl it on his chest.
He throws a granola bar at me.
“Why do you have a granola bar in your pocket?” I yell.
“Why not?” It’s still raining and he looks like a mess. A beautiful mess. “I’m a growing boy, okay? Always hungry.”
“You’re already too big for some houses.”
“I’m just the right size for your body, though. Promise.”
Something loosens in my chest. My anxiety uncurling some.
“Hey, I thought about what you said.” He kicks the stereo to shut it up, because we can barely hear each other over the rain and music. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m the sun. But you’re the sky, and I can’t live without you. You know how the sky’s been looking since you moved to Juilliard?” he asks. My heart is crumpled like a piece of discarded paper, an unimpressive sketch, in my chest.
He holds my gaze through the dark. “It is always dark.”
When Lev suggested he break up with Thalia, I secretly waited for it to happen. But it didn’t. Because here she is, three days later, in my basement, wearing a pink Alo Yoga sculpt bra and matching shorts and looking like a Pinterest-worthy It Girl.
Thalia is collecting her hair into a messy bun and grabs the ballet barre, extending her arms and dropping her ass to the floor. “Like, how am I even supposed to plan around Lev’s college arrangements when he still has no idea where he wants to go?” She arches her back, exhibiting insane dexterity. “It’s like he doesn’t even want to talk about it.”
My tibia, spine, and muscles are still sore and tender. But I push through, working day and night at the studio, dancing my life away. I join Thalia and start stretching, ignoring the persistent pain.
“Have you talked to him about it?” I roll my shoulders.
“Tried to. He gets really frustrated whenever I mention college.”
That’s because he doesn’t want to go to college. He wants to go to the Air Force Academy in Colorado and become a fighter jet pilot. I shouldn’t feel gleeful that I know things she doesn’t about him, but I am. Katia, my college roommate, would be proud. I turned into a petty, mean thing after all.
“You need to be honest with him. Tell him you’re worried about what the future holds for both of you guys.” I slide my hands off the barre, doing a full seated forward fold.
Thalia does the same. Her range of motion is much better than mine. She also has a rounder ass, more muscular legs, and fuller breasts.
Why am I comparing myself to her?
Because Lev has probably visited every hole in her body.
“Yeah, maybe.” She sighs, descending gracefully into a pigeon stretch. “But I just got a letter of acceptance from LSU and it’s a really good opportunity for me.”
“You should totally take it,” I say, and not because I want to break them up but because it really is a great school. I try to get into a pigeon stretch, but my muscles are killing me. Dove my ass. My spine is throbbing. Thalia leans deeper into her stretch.
Is she made out of frigging Play-Doh?
“Our love is like an addiction, though. Do you know what I mean?”
I swallow daggers. “Not really.”
She studies me intently. “We can’t get enough of each other.”
The door to the basement slams suddenly, and my sister’s voice pierces through it like a bullet. “Open up, Bailey!”