Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
“Fighting makes me feel alive,” he said. “And sometimes you need to feel alive. I figure if I can just fight with you for the rest of my life, then I’ll at least get some parts of you. Maybe that’s selfish, but I can at least have one small part, right?”
I couldn’t tell if he was joking. He had a small, sad smile on his face as if I were somehow leaving him or he was leaving me.
I was too tired to really read the room. All I felt was this tension between us and words that maybe were spoken but not really leaned into.
I took another brave sip of wine. “We don’t always have to fight.”
“Fighting’s healthy.” He looked away and set his wineglass down. “Do you want to watch a movie or something? Just relax and hang out for a bit?”
“Yeah, sure.” Special moment gone, we took our snacks and wine to the bed and sat next to each other.
He put on Happy Gilmore. Classic. We didn’t talk much, which I hated because I’d kind of been enjoying his company up until now, something I would take to my grave.
The next movie started playing.
And I almost dropped my wineglass. It was Unfaithful, where this married woman has an affair with one of the hottest men alive. While it starts out pretty normal, I knew it got really hot and heavy.
But I didn’t want to be the person to switch the channel.
And he didn’t seem to want to be that person either.
Neither of us wanted to be the uncomfortable prude.
So, we sat there and took sip after sip.
We watched.
In one scene, the actor reached down the heroine’s pants. I squirmed a bit and coughed while the actor’s tongue ran down her neck.
Hot, was it hot in here?
No, but it was painful, and all the wine was gone. Had we seriously pounded two bottles? I mean, over the course of a few hours, but still.
The credits started.
It was after noon.
And still we sat, wordless, watching the TV as it turned to something else. He shifted in his spot and set down his wineglass again. “This is bullshit.”
“The movies?”
“No, the fact that a bear freaking ruined what could have been a day at the beach. Now, I’m sitting in a stupid hotel room, on a stupid comfortable bed that has no business being this comfortable, with a hot girl I’ve already kissed and would kiss again, all because our dads are psychopaths and because I was doing mine a favor by giving him the time I knew he needed, using you as an excuse to—“
He stopped talking.
I tilted my head. “An excuse?”
He scowled. “She’s sick, Hazel. My mom’s sick, and Dad just got home from his last trip. She’s not doing better, and he wanted some alone time. Yes, the prank war was probably part of it, but it was just an easy excuse for me to give him some time.”
“Excuse?” I repeated. “So, all of this was just me being a reason for you to get away? I mean, I get that you didn’t want to spend time with me, but being someone you loathe on top of being an excuse now just makes me feel like baggage.”
“Don’t make it about you,” he snapped, then ran his hands down his face. “I’m sorry, it’s not that, it’s just…”
“What? What is it, August? Just be truthful.”
He was deathly quiet, not making eye contact when he said the words. “You aren’t the excuse. I make excuses or made excuses to see you. You aren’t the excuse, you’re the reason. And life hasn’t exactly been normal for us. With my mom being sick, I’m taking care of her. I didn’t even get to finish my first year of college, and here you are, all smart, brilliant, pretty, and thinking that after six years, I’m still the same person who taunted you from next door. And maybe that’s true. Because I do like taunting you. I like teasing you. I like getting a rise out of you because it’s cute, you’re cute, and I had a crush on you back then. Now, I’m literally having the hardest time sitting a few feet from you on a bed without thinking about what it would be like to taste you again.”
My heart stalled in my chest, then got caught in my throat.
The buzz from the TV and the A/C were the only noises in the room.
My exhale shuddered past my lips. I turned to look at him. His hair was a wreck, and he was staring down.
“So, are you done?” I asked.
His head popped up. “What?”
“With your speech. Are you done?”
His eyes moved back and forth, searching mine. “What the hell are you talking about—?“
I jumped onto his lap and straddled him, my legs resting on both sides of his.