Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Ares and I are getting along well. No more sniping or shitty comments from him.
We’re actually talking like normal people. And I’m finding that we have more in common than I would’ve thought.
Well, not tons in common. But we like a lot of the same movies and music.
Okay, so that’s it. But I like him. I like what he has to say. I like listening to him talk.
I find that I look forward to our chats in the car.
And I haven’t had a bad moment once this week. Don’t get me wrong; the need for alcohol is always there, in the back of my mind. It’s just not been as strong.
Ares hasn’t once mentioned us watching Dexter together again though. And I don’t want to be the one to ask him. I don’t want to push a friendship onto someone who doesn’t want it. So, the ball is in his court.
Although I am dying to watch more episodes of Dexter, and I’m wondering if I should just watch it alone. During the daytime, of course.
I’ve seen Missy a few times this week, which has been fun. I like her a lot.
We had lunch together on Sunday. She had called a few hours after Ares left to invite me to lunch. We met at a cute little café in Times Square. She apologized for missing the cinema, which I told her she didn’t have to. I mean, her friend was having a baby; that was way more important. She told me that her friend, Amanda, had a boy called Freddie. Missy showed me a picture of the baby on her phone. So freaking adorable.
Then, she asked me about Kyle. She said that Ares had told her. I mean, I’d asked him not to tell my dad, which he hasn’t, but I hadn’t thought about other people. I guess Missy knowing isn’t a problem, and she told me that he’d only told her because she was staying with him at the moment, and she’d just gotten home from the hospital early in the morning when he came in from being at mine.
After that, I focused the conversation toward her. She talked about her nieces, Gigi and Thea. She practically glowed about them, clearly a besotted aunt. She showed me photos of them, too. I swear, I had baby fever by the end of that lunch.
Missy never mentioned the painting that I gave Ares for Gigi though, so there’s something he did keep to himself. And I’m grateful for that. I don’t want to talk about my art with anyone right now—or the lack of it.
Missy also told me that she was a psych major at Dartmouth. She’s home for the summer, staying with Ares, like she always does. She told me that her twin brother, Lo, is currently in Europe, traveling with his buddies. He’s at Penn State, earning a law degree.
She told me tons of stuff.
One thing I noticed she never mentioned was her parents. And I never asked.
I don’t want her asking about my mom, so I’m not going to ask her questions about her parents.
But I do know that Ares pays for hers and Lo’s college tuition, as my dad once told me that. So, either their parents aren’t financially able to help toward their education or they’re not around.
Something tells me it might be the latter.
Missy and I also finally went to the cinema together on Tuesday evening. Just me and her, no Ares this time. We went to see The Greatest Showman again. Well, again for me, first time for Missy. But I was more than happy to watch it for a second time.
I’ve had quite a busy week, by my standards, and it’s been really good.
I’m on my way to the players’ meeting room right now to set up for the weekly team meeting.
The meeting room is on the other side of the gym.
I’m just walking by there when I hear my name—well, a variation of it—being said, and I stop near the partially open door.
“So, Kincaid…you and Coach Petrelli’s daughter.”
I don’t recognize the voice, but it’s one of the players on the team. They’re the only ones who use the gym.
“Me and Ari, what?” That voice I do know. It’s the one I’ve grown to like listening to in his car every morning and evening.
“Oh, Ari,” the voice singsongs. “So, you’re on a first-name basis with her. I guess you should be when you’re screwing her.”
What?
“I’m not screwing her, dick face. And I don’t refer to her as Coach Petrelli’s daughter because she has a fucking name—Ari.”
It was only a week ago that he referred to me as Jailbird. He still does from time to time, but I now take it as something that changed from a barb to cheeky.
“Hey, man, I wouldn’t blame you if you were. She’s hot as hell.”