Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
All the other men look around, confused. “Happy birthday dear Jonas. Happy birthday to you.” I kneel in front of him on the blanket, presenting my best cake making efforts. His eyes meet mine and they’re filled with a swirling soup of happiness and sadness. I don’t know the reason he didn’t announce his birthday in the same way he wears the rest of his life on his sleeve. I just know that he deserves to be celebrated.
“I didn’t know it’s your birthday, man,” Jimmy says. He seems embarrassed, but I don’t think it’s because he’s a bad friend. I think Jonas always keeps it to himself.
“How did you know?” he asks, then nods. “The application form?”
“Yeah. I don’t have candles, but eating the cake is the best part of birthdays, anyway.”
“Where did you get the cake?” Clay asks.
“I baked it.”
There’s a murmur of approval and if I didn’t know Jonas better, I'd say there was a tear in his eye. Probably just a grain of sand.
“Birthday boy gets to cut and eat the first slice.”
Jonas takes the cake knife and divides the cake into twelve even slices before taking two portions for himself. I laugh and he shrugs. “If I didn’t take two, these guys would probably argue over the last slice.”
As the cake is shared, each of the men pats Jonas on the back, or congratulates him, and Jonas grins so widely, I start to wonder if he’s ever had a birthday celebration before.
When he’s finished his double portion, he seeks me out and presses a chocolate-flavored kiss to my lips. “Thank you, Allie. Thank you.”
It’s only when he’s gone back to his spot on the blanket that I inhale a shaky breath and swallow my emotions.
I lay on my back with my knees bent, staring up at the star filled sky. Theron does the same next to me, and under the cover of darkness, he takes my hand in his and holds it. I’m transported back to a love story I read when I was a teen which had a scene just like this. The author wrote that beneath the vastness of the sky; the characters felt small and insignificant, and it’s true. I do feel tiny, like a grain of sand on this beach. One moment, it’s on the surface, touched by the wind and the sun, experiencing everything the world has to offer. The next it’s buried and forgotten, crowded in the cold and the dark.
These past few days have been the first in my life where I’ve felt like my head has breached the surface, but now I can already sense the downward spiral that’s going to come when this is over. I don’t want to go back to my lonely flat and my career that’s drowning my soul. I don’t want to kiss these men on the cheek and disappear from their lives. I can’t imagine saying goodbye.
“Thank you for the meal,” Theron says softly.
“Thank you for this.” I turn to face him, as all around us, the other men rest on their backs, staring up into the sky.
“This is what you needed.” He leans in to press a gentle kiss to my lips. “And that too.”
I snuggle into his chest, and he wraps his big arms around me until I feel completely safe.
“This is nice,” Tom says from somewhere behind me.
“Yeah. Nothing like a romantic evening with nine other guys,” Jonas jokes.
The rumble of laughter makes me laugh too. What we’re doing is far from normal, but somehow it feels exactly right.
“I love you, man.” Jimmy slaps Jonas on the shoulder and the two of them end up in a hilarious bro hug, which Jonas is the first to try to wriggle out from.
“Listen dude, I love you too, but definitely not in that way.”
“Shame,” I say, surprising a few of the men in the group. “What? That would be hot as fuck to watch.”
Theron squeezes me and digs his finger into my ribs. “There’s only one person that any of us wants to fuck and watch and that’s you.”
“Point to Theron,” Carson pipes up.
I struggle to sit up, searching for him in the log pile of men around me. “What is this scoring system you have?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Clay laughs. “He does this shit to confuse people. He thinks it’s funny.”
“I can’t even remember who’s in front,” Carson admits, “although I hope it’s me!”
“What would your prize be?”
He grins, and I remember what that smile felt like against my skin. “Another night with you.”
“If that’s the prize, then I’m sure I’m winning,” Gabe says.
Theron makes a low sound that stops all the bickering. “She’s not a prize anyone's winning.”
I know he means it kindly. He’s telling them not to think about me as something they can possess. It’s protective and lovely, and it puts a lump in my throat as big as a Gobstopper.