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)
But maybe I should spend less time thinking about how good Noah’s lips felt on my body and more time being thankful that no one died. Except for the mailbox. It was a fairly irresponsible thing to let happen, being in control of a large moving object during such a compromising activity.
Even if that compromising activity was amazing.
And I wouldn’t trade it for gold.
I crouch down to check that the mailbox is empty, then pick it up and bring it to the side of the house, where I figure it will be safe until I come back this afternoon to fix it. Then I hop in my car, give the front of Noah’s house one last glance, and take off.
The drive home is quick, but it’s sure full of bubbly thoughts of that last look Noah gave me before I left. I am nearly in disbelief at how happy I feel right now. Even as I pull into my driveway, my heart is still floating in the words, stories, and emotions Noah and I shared with each other last night. I wished the night would never end. I would spend countless more over there, just to be within his proximity, to be within his reach, to feel how amazing life can be.
And to kiss him everywhere that I didn’t last night.
To show him all the things I haven’t shown him yet.
To give him every last experience he’s craved but never had the confidence to ask for or pursue himself.
I want to give Noah everything.
After hopping out of the car with my neatly-packed breakfast, I come in through the side gate. Sitting on the paved walkway by Nan’s garden is Porridge, who pops her head up. I crouch down and give her some loving. “Hey, girl! You would not believe the night I had. After I get home from work and fixing Noah’s mailbox, you and I are gonna sit out here under the stars and I’ll tell you all about it, alright?” I reconsider. “Well, I’ll tell you about the parts that are appropriate for your impressionable ears.”
I hear shouting from inside.
I look up, concerned.
After a quick kiss on Porridge’s head, I leave her and hurry in through the back door.
The moment I enter, a square, tan-and-yellow striped pillow hits me in the face. I catch it with my free hand, bewildered, then realize it came from my mom, who appears to be throwing items off of the couch.
Oh, she’s aiming for my dad, who stands across the room from her. “Lauren, I’m not cheatin’ on you, for Christ’s sake, I was just—”
“Five in the morning, Robert? Five??”
“Why’s it always zero or a hundred with you?” He puts a hand to his forehead and shuts his eyes. “Damn it, Lauren, I’m tired of—”
“Say my name like that one more time,” she growls under her breath. “I dare you to say it one more time. I’ve got countless more things I’m not afraid to throw, if you don’t tell me where you were until five fucking AM.”
“There’s this thing called a job that I work at …”
“You and your sarcasm,” she spits back, teeth shaking.
“Lauren, I even told you, I said to you just the other day, this new job’s gonna have me out working graveyard shifts now and then, but you were nose-deep in your wineglass and—” He dodges another pillow. “Oh, I hope you’re having fun, Lauren! Real fun!”
“Nothing’s open at five in the morning, Robert, nothing at all for miles! You think I’m an idiot?”
“I think you’re overdue for a trip to Dr. Gould out in Fairview.”
“Oh, nice, real nice. Let’s go there then, shall we?”
“Lauren, I’m tired.”
“And y’know what I’m tired of?” She comes around the couch and stands in front of him. “I am s-so tired of—of sitting around in this goddamned house. What’s the point of my life anymore? What am I even doing, Rob? I just sit around all day, up half the night, while you stay out until five doing God knows … or who knows …”
“Lauren, I said—”
“Even the damned dog’s thinking it! She was whimpering and scratching at walls all night, keeping me up like a horror movie! I thought we had a rat!” Then she spots me. “And where in the hell have you been all night?”
My dad turns, not having noticed me. He’s a tall man with a handsome shaven face and broad shoulders, but when my parents are in the middle of a fight, he hunches over and looks so small, his eyes heavy and sad.
But now I’m the one in the spotlight. “Was just staying over at a friend’s,” I answer calmly, still holding the pillow inadvertently thrown my way with one hand and my packed-up breakfast in the other. “What’s … What’s going on?”
“Oh, same that’s always going on,” my mom spits back. “You and your father are out playing with whomever you want until all hours of the night, both of you living your lives and not giving a shit about your mother’s.”