Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
“Blueberry pancakes, huh?” I ask.
“I wasn’t sure if you liked them, but I thought I’d take a chance,” he replies. “Same with the bacon and sausage. I didn’t know which one you might like, so I made them both.”
“Everything looks and smells amazing.”
“Coffee? Orange juice? Both?”
I purse my lips. “Both, please.”
“Good choice.”
He pours out mugs of coffee and glasses of orange juice for us both and sets them down on the table. Then, finally, Cash pulls a jar of peanut butter out of the cupboard, carries it over, and sets it down as he takes the seat across from me.
“Peanut butter?” I ask.
“I can’t eat pancakes without peanut butter,” he replies. “It’s amazing with syrup. I never eat pancakes or waffles without it.”
“Huh. I haven’t tried that before.”
“Then you should give it a shot.”
“I think I might. And thank you for this… feast,” I say. “I usually eat a Pop-Tart for breakfast. If I eat breakfast at all.”
“You should always eat breakfast. Like they say, it’s the most important meal of the day. It’s what gives you the fuel you need to get through it.”
“Noted.”
We share a laugh, then fix our plates and tuck into our meals. There’s something so domestic about this whole thing, the surrealness of the moment is a little overwhelming. I don’t know this man and he doesn’t know me, and yet here we are, sharing breakfast like an old married couple or something. It’s unreal and yet, at the same time, it’s kind of nice.
“Okay,” I say. “You’re right about the peanut butter.”
“Of course, I am,” he replies with a soft chuckle.
Fine lines at the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles, and up close, I can see the flecks of gray in his neatly trimmed beard. He’s older than me, obviously, but his boyish smile makes him appear younger. Softer. It smooths out that ruggedness in his face and somehow makes him even more handsome than I think he already is.
“So, what happened last night?” he asks. “What brought you to my door?”
It’s been the elephant in the room since I sat down at the table, and I’ve been wondering when he was going to ask me about it. Part of me doesn’t even want to get into it simply because it’s humiliating. I’m mortified that I was even in that position, to begin with. Not to mention that now, by the light of day, I find myself wondering if perhaps I overreacted to the situation.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine,” he says, as if reading my mind. “I’m just offering a friendly ear to bend.”
“To be honest, I don’t have many friends in the city, so I appreciate the offer.”
“Why’s that?”
“I just moved here a couple of months ago. I’m from Georgia.”
He nods and takes a sip of his coffee. “Oh? What brought you out here?”
“You’ll think I’m an idiot.”
“I won’t.”
I sigh and try to fight off the waves of embarrassment that batter me. “I moved out here because I met a boy online.”
My voice trails off as I hear just how stupid it sounds coming out of my mouth. I’ve laughed at people who’ve moved across the country for a boy or girl before, thinking it’s the stupidest thing a person could do. And yet, here I am, I’m the idiot now.
“It didn’t turn out the way you thought it would, huh?” he asks.
I shake my head miserably. “He’s not the person I thought he was.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No. Nothing like that,” I tell him. “But online, we were a great match. We had so much in common and I thought we shared the same values. I thought…”
My eyes sting and my vision shimmers as tears well in my eyes. I use my napkin to dab at the corners of my eyes, shame and stupidity crashing down over me again.
“The fantasy didn’t match the reality, I’m guessing,” he says gently.
“In some ways, it did. But not in the ways that matter to me.”
“Like what?”
My hand trembles as I pick up my coffee mug and take a sip, doing my best to keep from humiliating myself even further by breaking into a crying fit. Rather than judging me for being a stupid, naïve girl, Cash just looks at me with kindness in his eyes.
“I thought we were on the same page about sex. I’m not like a prude or anything, but sex isn’t something I take lightly. Before I came out here, I told him I wouldn’t sleep with him until I thought the time was right. Until I was ready. He said he understood.”
“I’m guessing he didn’t understand.”
I shake my head. “He’s been pressuring me to sleep with him. I kept saying no and I could see him getting angrier and more frustrated,” I tell him. “It all came to a head last night. We were out, and he started going off about us not having sex. I told him I just wasn’t ready, and he lost it. He started screaming at me, calling me a tease, basically telling me I owed him sex, and he started punching the dashboard of his car. It terrified me. I jumped out of the car and ran. And that’s how I ended up… here.”