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 decide to grab hold of the rope TJ is throwing, assuming he’s throwing any. “I could use the boy’s room, actually. Can you show me the way so I don’t get lost?”
TJ chuckles. “Sure. Follow me.”
Being the smart guy he is, TJ knows I don’t need to pee; I just needed freeing from that suffocating study. “So what the heck is up with those two? Do you know?” he asks when we get to the kitchen at the other end of the house. It’s a considerable walk. The McPherson estate is a huge plot of land in the Spruce countryside, maybe three times the size of the Strongs’. “You could cut the tension in there with an axe.”
I come up to the counter where TJ is leaning. “I’m just here for the ride.”
“I hear you. Want some raspberry tea anyway?” he asks. “I’m fixing myself a glass, so—”
“Sure, why not. Thanks.” I watch him get out two glasses from the cupboard, set them on the counter, then go to the fridge. “So you’re home for spring break, right?”
He comes back with a jug of tea. “Yep, sure am. As much as I like campus life, I always miss home. Plus, I have my part-time job at T&S’s to come back to.” He pours, returns the jug to the fridge, then comes back with a bowl of raspberries, from which he drops a couple into each of our glasses. “Want any more?”
TJ never half-asses anything. “Two raspberries is more than the zero I was expecting.”
He chuckles, then lifts his glass to mine. We clink them, then take our first sip. As expected, it’s the most amazing glass of sweet raspberry tea I’ve ever had. Anthony and Dean are missing out.
“You always struck me as a college guy,” he says after we both enjoy another tasty sip.
I lift an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yep. All the time on campus, I’d stop and be like, ‘Cole should totally be here with me.’ I always wondered why you chose not to pursue a degree. You’d totally fit in with my friends, I think.”
He says this while we sit in his enormous house on his handful of acres his parents own. I think he might be ignoring the financial elephant in the room that separates us and our decision-making processes for attending universities.
I decide not to point it out. “Never really had a good enough reason to go. Everything I need’s right here in town.”
“Hmm.” He studies me over the brim of his glass. “Sounds like you stayed behind for someone, not something.”
I look at him, stunned. “Huh? Where’d you get that?”
TJ smirks. “And from the look on your face right now, sounds like I got it right on the first try.”
“What look?” I let out a laugh. “What are you? A detective?”
“I just knew there was a bigger reason you stayed home. Don’t get me wrong,” he quickly adds, “there’s nothing wrong with not going to college. There are so many people I go to school with who are just there because their parents made them or because it looks good on paper.” He shakes his head. “As if the whole point of going to college is to fill some wall of their house with graduation gown photos to show off to their friends and family. ‘Oh, and this is my totally impressive son Preston, he graduated magna cum laude with a degree in literally everything.’” He makes a gagging sound. “Why is everyone so obsessed with looking impressive?”
“What do you mean you think I stayed behind for someone?”
“Just a hunch.” He turns his glass around and around on the counter, appearing contemplative. “Maybe we’re afraid for others to see how we really are. So we all gotta look a certain way.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“My mom can be a little weird about appearances,” he goes on anyway. “Honestly, it’s … probably a big reason why … I haven’t … well … y’know.” He takes another sip and glances off.
His tone of voice makes me pause. I squint at him. “Why you haven’t what?”
“Y’know,” he repeats, this time with a brief, unhelpful gesture.
I continue staring at him. I, quite clearly, do not know.
He sets down his glass and frowns at me. “Cole, c’mon, man. Everyone else in town might be clueless, but I thought surely you’d be keen enough to know why I’ve never had a girl on my arm.”
My eyes go wide. I lower my glass. “Wait a sec. Are you—?”
TJ snorts. “You really didn’t know? It’s that surprising?”
“I … guess I really didn’t. I’d just thought—” And suddenly I’m not sure what I thought. That TJ McPherson was always so focused on getting straight A’s that he didn’t have time to date? That he had secret girlfriends over the years that no one knew about? Or he simply had no interest in dating? It’s like my mind made all the excuses for him without him having to lift a finger.