Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
“I meant it when I said I liked you, Noah.”
His words stop me at the door.
My fingers are literally curled upon the handle.
“I was nervous about our interview … about what you might ask.” He speaks to my back. “The truth is, there’s a lot about my personal life I don’t want everyone to know. Such as … what my family’s like. Or why I’m still single. Or … who I like.” He lets out a sigh, scuffs the pavement with his shoe. “Until this past Christmas and the whole Malcolm thing, most people didn’t even know I existed. I live a relatively quiet life with my family, Porridge, and my cousins out in the farmlands. Then the festival happened, we happened, Nadine and her crazy ideas happened … and now I’m in the middle of this whirlwind I can’t control.” He lets out a nervous chuckle. “A whirlwind that’ll find me in a pair of Speedos on a big stage doing God-knows for a talent show.”
My grip on the door handle tightens further.
Suddenly, I find myself thinking about my mom—and how I try to hide her. Her saccharine shows of affection that have always embarrassed me since I was a child. The Jiggle-Wiggles I couldn’t bear to admit came from her. How I’ve been hiding myself from the world since I can even remember.
I know he has misgivings about doing this pageant. Of course he hasn’t been forthcoming. It makes perfect sense that he treated our interview like a conversation among pals.
It was the only way he could cope with it all.
Not to mention other feelings he apparently has.
“I apologize,” I blurt out.
“For … For what?”
“For failing to understand your perspective,” I answer him. “For not allowing you any opportunity to express yourself. I … I think I should have considered the rather obvious fact that this may not be comfortable at all for you, exposing yourself to the town, whether via an interview or a pageant.” Silence passes. “It was just a second ago I thought I’d be in the spotlight when Burton had me write a story about the festival. And that had me wishing I was half a turtle. So really,” I finish as I turn back around to face him, “I understand about—”
But the moment I turn, I’m silenced as I find myself face-to-face with Cole, who has stood from the curb and come up to me.
Face-to-face with the one who kissed me.
The one who has held my heart hostage since yesterday.
“You mean half a turtle so you can retreat into your shell?” he asks, his voice soft and way too close. “Aww, that’s so cute.”
I can’t breathe. I step back. My heel hits the restaurant door. “Wha … What …?”
“By the way, how did it turn out?” he asks.
I swallow. “Y-You mean the article?”
“The pic you snuck of me when you first came out here.”
Why do I keep finding Cole’s face so close to mine when we’re together? Why does this keep happening? Why am I just as excited by it as I am terrified?
I look down at my phone. It’s blurry. I left my glasses at the table. Wait, no, I’m wearing them. Are my eyes blurry from fear? “S-Sorry. I didn’t mean to take it. I just, um—”
“You don’t have to apologize. It’s what you do. You take pics and capture moments. I get it, it’s your instinct.”
It bothers me how quickly he understands things I don’t say. Like he’s in my mind. Like he’s the drummer of my heart, beating it for fun, tom drums and bass drums and snappy snares.
Does he enjoy being the percussionist of the madness going on inside of me?
“I wish I could just … ‘capture the moment’ the way you do,” he admits with a funny little sigh. Even his laughter sends chills of delight up my neck. How does he do that? “Anyway, can I see it?”
I fumble with my phone, then pull up the photo to show him.
He peers at it, then smiles. “You have quite an eye, Noah.”
My heart grows a mouth and screams.
I don’t know what to do with his flattery. Do I thank him? Do I say something back? Do I throw up and pass out on the ground?
“Sorry,” he says suddenly, then steps back.
I look up at once. “What? Sorry for what?”
“I’m doing it again. Asserting myself on you. Didn’t I just …?” He lets out a frustrated chuckle as he takes another step back and shakes his head. “Didn’t I just apologize and say I wouldn’t do this? I already told you how I feel. And I kissed you and totally freaked you out. Yet here I go, obliviously pushing myself onto you and invading your space again, uninvited, unwelcomed …”
There’s a vacuum now where his body used to be.