Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“I appreciate your concern, but I’m safe. If you’re worried about your safety,” I start teasing, “no need to worry. I’ll protect you.”
“Funny girl.” He grins and sets his shoes next to mine beside my doormat.
We tug off our socks and bring them inside the apartment with us.
Holding my free hand out, I say, “Welcome home.”
3
Cooper
Welcome home.
Those are the sweetest words spoken to me in a long time.
It’s not like I don’t have a home. I do, a quite large one where my parents live back in Haywood. I’ve even technically lived in my apartment long enough to call it home.
But I feel different standing in Story’s studio apartment, more of something I’m struggling to pinpoint. I’m already so fucked over this girl. Why?
“This is my place,” she says awkwardly and looks around. “There’s not much to it, but yeah, it’s home.”
“I like it.” My voice is gravelly, so I clear my throat. “It’s nice. It’s very . . .”
She looks at me with curiosity in her eyes. “It’s what?”
“Very you.”
A softer smile shapes her mouth. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was meant as one.”
Her grin grows as she takes my wet socks from me and carries both pairs with her to the closet. When she opens the door, I see a stackable washer and dryer tucked inside. “Take off your jeans.”
“A little forward, don’t you think?” I give her a wink.
“Har. Har. You said you need two hours. I can have them washed and dried in that time, then send you into the cold, wet world all clean and warm.”
“Well, when you put it like that . . .” I take off my backpack and set it down near the door. She mimics me as we take off our coats and hats. When I reach for the button of my jeans, she says, “I think I’ll change in the bathroom. I have some baggy pajama bottoms that might fit you in the second drawer of the dresser. You can borrow them if you want.”
When she disappears into the bathroom, I look around again, using the time to see what Story’s life is all about. A collection of hats hangs above the front door, and a rickety bookcase leaning to one side just inside the door looks ready to retire. The dresser she mentioned is in the corner, and a flow of furniture leads to a wooden desk under the window.
Despite the small space, she went with a queen-sized bed. Her nightstand has a stack of hardback books under a tiny blue lamp and a charger hanging over the drawer in the front.
Three doors align the other wall, the farthest one she entered being the bathroom. I can assume a closet, maybe two. No table in the kitchen area eats up space, and another tall dresser anchors the left side of the door.
It’s not much, but she’s made the most of the available space.
Moving to the corner, I slowly open the drawer and see everything neatly tucked inside—shirts, tiny shorts, and the pants she was referring to. I pull a plaid pair out and toss them on the bed. After stripping off my jeans, I slip the pants on. Why she’s wearing a men’s large, I have no idea. They must swallow her whole. As for me, they hang just a bit at the waist, but they’re about six inches too short. I’ll suffer through the embarrassment if it means I have clean and dry jeans by the time I finish this paper.
The door opens, and she comes out dressed in a fuzzy light blue robe with bare legs and feet. She’s fucking adorable. Holding it together at the neck, she says, “I forgot to grab clothes to change into.”
“I can close my eyes if it makes you more comfortable.”
“It’s fine. Make yourself at home.” She comes around the bed, then stops, quickly covering her mouth to mute her laughter.
“Yeah, they’re a little short.”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. But yeah, they’re a lot too short.” She continues to giggle and eye me as she passes. “They grow them big wherever you’re from.”
“My mom was a model. She’s tall, like five-ten or so. Or used to be. She claims she’s shrinking, but it’s hard to tell. And my dad is six-three.”
“My mom just cleared five feet, so I’m lucky I hit five-four. I’m like a giant compared to my family.” She opens the second drawer and pilfers through the items until she finds something that appears to satisfy her and snatches them.
I’m still waiting for her to mention her dad and give me insight into her life, but that reference never comes. “A real giant,” I joke when she passes in front of me again. She doesn’t even notice how she could walk under my chin without a connection.
She disappears again, and I look around. I assume I can set up on the desk, so I grab my bag and start pulling the cable and laptop out.