Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
My nose began smarting just at the mention, and I cringed. “Okay. One, I was a breakdancer at one point in my life.”
“Never. Never. You had two breakdancers in your cabin that summer, but you weren’t a breakdancer. Knowing two lock-and-pop moves doesn’t make you one of them, and those were with your wrists.”
I ignored him. “And two, that softball came out of nowhere. Literally. We didn’t know there was a game being played on the other side of that building. I thought I was in the clear to show you all my skills.” I smoothed out my shoulders, pretending to brush off some dirt.
He rolled his eyes. “Same Charlie. Funny and deluded.”
Okay. Ouch. “Rule number one of hanging out with Charlie: you can’t tell me I’m deluded until I say it first.” I smacked my hand on the table. “Take that, Motivational Marathoner.”
He shook his head. “You did—three times on the walk here. And don’t think I don’t know what you were doing. You were trying to distract me from talking about camp.” He was trying to keep a straight face. Trying…and he was failing. He laughed, shaking his head. “Man, I’ve missed you.”
There went that moment.
Eight years. It was a long fucking time to stay away, and I was sore from all the cringing on the inside. Including right at this moment.
He hadn’t pushed me to talk about him or why I faded from everyone. While I knew I was being a coward, I’d been grateful.
It was time. Long past time, because I was glad that I answered his call and I was glad he’d gone dancing with me tonight. But I was really glad that I just saw him again.
I’d forgotten how much I missed everyone.
I looked down at the table, the words burning in my throat, but I had to say them. Or say something, at least. I wasn’t a total jerk.
“I know I went MIA—”
“Hey.” His voice was gentle, and he laid a hand on mine. “I know enough to realize you were going through something bad. You don’t have to apologize to me or explain anything.”
That made the burning worse.
“Trent…”
I tried again. I had to. He was a good friend to try after eight years of me ghosting, and since he’d showed up, it’d been drama overload. I never used to be a shitty friend.
I didn’t think so, anyway. But that might’ve been something else I was deluded about.
“You gotta know it wasn’t just the camp group,” I said. “It was everyone. I ghosted on everyone in my life. My family too.”
“I know.”
The music blared as someone opened the door. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!
He waited until the door closed again, until it was just Boom, boom, boom, and then he leaned forward, his forehead almost touching mine across the table.
“I knew you were going through it. We all did, and some of that’s on us too. You know, when you and…”
Damian.
It was time his name was said.
He hesitated to say his name. Hell, even I did at this point.
He cocked his head to the side. “When you began dating Damian, I’ll admit that some of us didn’t handle it the right way. I know I got pissed—not because you were with someone, but because I couldn’t call you at three in the morning to talk about whatever girl I had in my bathroom and figure out how to get her out of my apartment. At some point, you were no longer our Charlie, but his Charlie.”
I picked at the table. Some dickhead had scratched penis into the wood, and damned if I wasn’t going to turn that i into an upside-down actual penis. Just needed to add some girth and another ball. Or I was stalling. Again.
I glanced up, meeting Trent’s knowing gaze. Why’d he always look at me that way? Like he was an all-knowing wise owl.
I raised a shoulder, feeling guilt bloom in my chest. “You should’ve been able to do that, except Damian should’ve joined the conversation.”
God.
One year ago. That’s how long ago I’d left that relationship, and I’d been such a mess that it took eleven months to realize I needed something drastic to get me back in the land of the living—and social media.
Hence my Lucas mistake. We met at my gym, gushed over Reese Forster, and I’d given a reckless yes to his suggestion we grab a beer, which had ended with Newt. Good old Newt.
I sighed. I was starting to miss the old grandpa.
But not his thieving ways.
Trent nodded. “Yeah. Maybe. Maybe I can’t talk, but I know all our other friends, and I never had the relationship with any of them where I could call at three in the morning to plot Operation Remove Forgotten-Name-Nice-Lady.” He bumped my arm with his fist and ducked his head to meet my gaze. “I’m kinda scared this is an aberration, so I mean it. You should come with me to camp. Keith—”