Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Almost every girl that comes through the door stares at him a bit too long for my liking. He’s even garnering looks from the older women—a few of whom I know are married. I inwardly cringe thinking about how my mom acted with him today. But I’m not shocked at her behavior.
Booker doesn't even notice all the attention. When he finally lifts his head, his stare is directed at me. Hence making it very hard to work knowing his eyes are on me more often than not. I don’t know if I want to tell him to get the hell out of here or never leave.
“Why don’t you take off, honey?” Grams says. “I’m going to let Will give a go at closing.” Will has only worked a few shifts so far. He’s nice enough and seems to care about doing a good job. He goes to South View.
“Are you sure?” I glance over at Booker, who isn’t staring at me or the book in his hand this time. He’s glaring at Will. Wonder if they know each other. With South View being our rival school, I’m guessing so.
“Yes, I’m sure. Go have fun and do something exciting.” She tries to rush me off. As much as I want to get out of here and hang out with Booker, I’m scared too. His words from earlier still linger in my head. He’d made it pretty clear that he is interested in only me. At least that’s how I took it.
That I was the only one. My terrible brain starts to backpedal that he might have only been informing me he’s interested in one girl. He didn’t outright say it was me, but I felt as though it was unspoken. Right? I hate this. This is why I never wanted to date. I’m already obsessing about him and allowing him to occupy most of my thoughts.
Part of me wishes for simpler times where my emotions weren’t questioning everything between us and things were easy.
“Okay,” I give, knowing I’m not going to win this one with Grams.
Still, I top off a few of the toppings before I take my apron off and grab my bag to leave. Booker stands when he spots me coming around the counter with my bag in my hand ready to go.
“You meant me, right?” I blurt out when I come to a stop in front of him. Oh my God. What is wrong with my brain lately when I’m around him? I’m blurting things out that I don’t mean to. Same with the stripper comment from before. I can’t regret that one, though. He put that worry to bed but it really also opened up the possibility that Booker and I could be something more.
“Meant you about what?” He cocks his head, staring down at me. Why does he have to be so damn good looking?
“Never mind. Let’s go.” I try to move past him.
“Nope.” He puts his arm out, stopping me from going anywhere. “I’m starting to figure out you get in your own head too much. If you want to know something, Care-bear, ask away. I’ll always tell you the truth.” There he goes again, always saying the right things.
“You said you were only interested in one girl.” I force the words past my lips.
“You.” He doesn't make me wait for an answer. His response is instant. Then he goes on further to cement it. “It’s only ever been you.” He shrugs his shoulders. Those are the last words I ever expected to fall from his lips. I open my mouth to say something, but I think I’m in shock because no words come out. The only thing I do is continue to stare at him.
“Carrie.” I’m broken out of my stupor by someone calling my name. Before I can even register what is happening, Will is standing next to us. “I wanted to see if I could get your number in case I have any questions about closing up shop.”
Booker shifts, pulling me into his side and wrapping his arm around me.
“You can’t close an ice cream shop without needing help, Will? No wonder you never made the varsity team.”
“Booker!” I hiss, elbowing him in the side. “All the numbers you might need are on the board in the office.”
“Thanks, C. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Will shoots Booker a smirk before he gets back to work. Booker glares after him the whole way.
“What’s your deal?” I ask. Booker’s attention comes back to me.
“Let’s go. I need to get real food in you and not just ice cream.” He leads me out of The Sugar Factory and to his car. “Mom said she saved some dinner for us unless you’re not in the mood for spaghetti.”
“Nope. If I don’t get to change the subject”—I stop him when we get to his car—“you don’t get to either. What’s with you and Will? This some baseball rival thing?”