Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Are you sure this is okay?” I ask. Dare’s on a stool, sketching something out at the counter while Lo cooks. It’s all very…domestic. I feel like an interloper, standing in the middle of their kitchen with my hands in my back pockets, not having a clue how to act or what to do. This right here is why I’d rather be at the restaurant.
“Would you stop asking that?” Lo says, turning away from the stove to point her spatula at me. “It’s not a big deal.” When Dare doesn’t say anything, she plucks a grape from the bowl next to her and pegs him in the head with it. He looks up at her with a scowl and she raises both eyebrows, jerking her head in my direction.
“Better you than Adrian,” he says, barely sparing me a glance. I don’t know who Adrian is, but I’ll take it. Lo snorts.
“This is not an either/or situation. Once Adrian catches wind of her being here, you really think he’ll stay away?”
Dare drops his pencil onto the pad of paper and stands, making his way over to Lo. He cages her in, both hands braced on the counter behind her. I’d probably shit my pants if I were her, but she simply smiles, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Just another reason we should get away for a while. Just the two of us,” he says pointedly.
“You know I can’t right now.”
“Why not?” he pushes, and I get the feeling this is an ongoing conversation.
“I’m just going to grab a shower,” I say awkwardly, hitching a thumb behind me before I slink away.
“Towels are under the sink!” Lo yells after me.
After hightailing it upstairs, I go to Jesse’s room—my room for the time being—and sit on the edge of the bed. “This is weird,” I mutter to myself as I take in my surroundings. The walls are stark white and bare, free of any holes, telling me he didn’t have any pictures or posters on them. Back home, my walls were painted black—one of the few times having a hippie, carefree mother who allowed me to express myself came in handy—and almost completely covered in posters of my favorite bands, album covers, records, and pictures from concerts. My room told a story about my life and who I am. This room is devoid of any personality. This room tells no story.
Morbid curiosity taking over, I stand and open the drawers of the black dresser. They’re all empty. I check the nightstand next, finding nothing but a pack of condoms. I slam the drawer shut, turning for the closet. Sliding the white wooden door open, I find a beat-up skateboard with the grip tape peeled halfway off the deck. I turn the board over to see faded stickers of various skate brands and Jesse carved into the wood in jagged letters.
Lacrosse player. Asshole. Playboy. Skater? How many personalities does this guy have?
I grab a change of clothes from my suitcase before slinging it and my other bag into the closet, then head for the bathroom for a shower. A shower that I don’t even have to wait in line for.
Home sweet home.
The first three days at Lo and Dare’s, I felt awkward and on edge. I kept looking over my shoulder, as if Jesse was going to pop up at any moment and I’d have to explain why and how I’m in his sister’s house but, thankfully, he doesn’t come. He may not be here physically, but his face is everywhere I turn, taunting me. In the hallway next to my room hangs a framed diploma, a scholarship letter with his Lobos logo, and a picture of him and Lo at his graduation, cigarette dangling from his lip, appearing aloof as always, but the happiness shining through his eyes is unmistakable.
The refrigerator is full of pictures, too. Most of them are of Jesse wrestling and playing lacrosse, but there’s one photo that always gives me pause. It’s a young Jesse, sitting on a tattered couch with a southwestern print. His too-long hair hangs in front of one eye as he holds a skateboard on his lap. Jeans ripped at the knee, once-white socks that are almost black on the bottom, and no shirt. The carpet around him is stained and the table in front of him is cluttered with dirty dishes and various takeout boxes. His eyes are purple underneath, and he’s way too skinny, but he smiles like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
Other than the guilt of feeling like I’m hiding something from Lo by omitting the truth about my history with her brother and having to be reminded of his existence at every turn, I like staying here. Both Lo and Dare work a lot, and I have a lot more time to myself than I thought I would. Like right now, they’re both closing tonight, so I have the house to myself. Plucking a black bikini from my bag, I make quick work of getting changed. Lo told me to help myself to the Jacuzzi in the backyard, but I didn’t want to risk using it when other people were around.