Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Her laugh is immediate. It’s neither a mocking laugh nor a bemused one. It’s good-natured astonishment. “What are you doin?”
Her outfit is a more feminine version of mine and it came straight out of McBooms because I went over there on Sunday and I took Lowyn McBride with me. So this outfit right here that she’s wearing is right up Rosie’s alley.
I stand up, unbuckle two helmets from the handlebars, swing my leg over the bike, put my helmet on and offer her the second. Then I nod behind me. “Get on and find out.”
She doesn’t even hesitate. She comes over, takes the helmet, and a moment later her breasts are pushing up against my back, her sweet, warm breath gliding over my neck as she coos, “You’re fun, Amon Parrish.”
I smile, kick the bike, and tell her, “Hold on,” as I pull away from the curb and point us downhill on the loop highway.
It’s a beautiful summer morning and the ride down the highway is picturesque. Every time I drive around, I marvel at how pretty West Virginia is. There are lots of pretty places in this world. It’s easy to get lost in the ugly, especially with the job I had. It was a lot of cities—which can be beautiful in their own way if you’ve got a forty-thousand-foot view and all you see are the tall buildings, or the waterfront, if it has one, or the exotic things to do. But cities are mostly just a collection of chaos when you get up close.
So when I had the chance I would remind myself to appreciate places filled with nothin’ but slow livin’. And West Virginia is like this. We’ve got our own chaos here, of course. But we’ve wrapped a little bubble around Trinity County and the surrounding areas.
This is not a bad thing, in my opinion.
I’m taking Rosie to the Canyon Rim Boardwalk just outside Lansing because it’s close, it’s pretty, and it’s got a helluva view of the New River Gorge Bridge. Of course, I’ve been here many times—as has Rosie, I presume. We came as a class three or four times in school. But I haven’t seen it since I’ve been back and I doubt very much that Rosie has been here recently either.
We arrive at the visitors’ center and Rosie hops off, removing her helmet. I kick the stand down on the bike and do the same, then secure both helmets to the rear seat.
When I turn back to Rosie, she’s smiling at me. “What?” I ask.
“You. You’re so… different.”
“Different good or different bad?”
“Neither. I mean, as a boy, and from a distance, you were always nice.”
I grin. “Always in trouble too.”
“Yeah. You were. But that was the outside you. The inside you has always been considerate. You were just a little bit wild, that’s all. Itching to see the world, maybe.”
“I guess I was. And I got my wish. But now all I want is to be back.” I could say more here. I could make the whole declaration. Move things along, get her to agree to be exclusive. But I don’t want to miss out on the stuff that comes before that. I want us to take our time.
“And settled?” Rosie asks. Like she’s reading my mind.
“Something like that.” I point to the path that leads to the boardwalk. “Ready?”
Rosie takes a breath and chuckles. “Well, the walk down isn’t the part you need to be ready for, is it? It’s the walk back up.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll piggyback you if ya get tired.”
And this makes her blush. While she’s doing that, I offer her my hand. She looks at it dubiously. “Seriously, Amon? You wanna hold hands?”
“Why not?”
“It’s just… kinda high school, don’t you think?”
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s not that I don’t like any of this. The costumes, the dates, the effort.” She stresses that last word. “Because you are definitely putting in the effort. But… why me?”
I wiggle my still-open hand at her. “Walk with me and I’ll tell ya.”
Rosie’s eyes roll up a little, but only a little. She likes this courting thing I’m doing, but she’s wary. She wants to fall for it, but at the same time the rational part inside her is filled with caution. Telling her to guard her heart.
And once again, in my head, I see her that day in high school. Standing there in the cafeteria with that look of horror on her face as her water broke.
That was the first time I ever saw fear. Like real fear. I would witness thousands of ways in which fear could manifest in the years after that, but Rosie Harlow, a teenager on the verge of giving birth, was the very first time and I will never forget it.