Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
James barked out a laugh. “To the contrary, I think he might have liked it too much.”
My confusion must have been evident because he went on to explain. “Richard liked going out. He was the life of any party—had a huge social life. Clubs until all hours, concerts with backstage passes, you name it and he was there.”
So pretty much the opposite of me, I thought. The last time I’d been to a club had been over a year ago for my friend Leroy’s bachelor party in Boston, and even then we hadn’t even stayed out late enough to shut the place down. No one would ever accuse me of being the life of the party. I’d never minded that before, but suddenly I had a moment of wishing I were different. Of wishing I were more like Richard, more the kind of guy that James could fall for.
Which was absurd seeing as how this wasn’t that kind of relationship. This wasn’t a relationship at all, just sex.
“I’m not sure I would have pegged you as the partying until all hours kind of guy,” I admitted.
James lifted a shoulder. “I wasn’t really before. I think that’s what I liked about Richard—he was so different and energetic and fun. He pulled me out of my comfort zone, forced me to try new things. He got me out of my rut of working late and going home and ordering takeout before maybe watching an episode of Parks and Rec or two and falling into bed. In many ways it was great, but in some ways…” He paused, considering his words. “The thing is, I had a job that demanded a lot of hours. I couldn’t go out every night like he could, and he got bored staying in. That’s why he liked it when I traveled—he didn’t have to feel guilty about staying out until all hours.”
I frowned. “Did he not work?”
James let out a laugh. “If you asked him, he did. But Richard is…” He waved a hand in the air. “He doesn’t really know what he wants to do or who he wants to be. Every month it’s something new, and he’ll throw himself into a new passion project and then get bored and move on to something else.” He lifted a shoulder. “He’s young, let’s just put it at that.”
He said it so casually, like he wasn’t aware of the age difference between the two of us and had no idea the comparison he was drawing. And suddenly I wondered if that was how he saw all young people. If that was how he saw me.
Did he think my passion over the Sea Sprite was just a lark? A project I was throwing myself into that I would eventually get bored with and walk away from? I felt my cheeks begin to burn and grabbed our lunch trash to throw away, using that as an excuse to put distance between us.
And what if he was right? What if I was holding on to the Sea Sprite because I was too afraid to move on? I’d lived in McBride my entire life, had never gone to college, so never had reason to leave. I told myself I liked living in a small town, I liked that I knew my neighbors and that they knew me. But what did I have to compare it to? I’d never experienced anywhere else, never tried living in a larger city. I told myself that I had everything I needed right here, but what if I was wrong? What if I’d only convinced myself that was true because it was easy?
When I turned back to the table, he was staring out the picture window toward the beach and the ocean beyond, stretching all the way to the horizon. There was something so unguarded in his expression, so vulnerable that my heart squeezed.
He looked sad. Lonely.
I wanted to take his hand and tell him that whatever had caused their breakup, his ex was stupid to have ever let him go. That if he were mine…
I stopped myself before that train of thought could go too far.
James wasn’t mine. He wouldn’t ever be mine.
I cleared my throat and took my seat, pulling the box of Sea Sprite documents closer. “We should start going through this stuff so you can get back to your other work.”
His eyes shifted to mine, his expression still unguarded and needy. Then he blinked and the moment passed. “Right,” he said. “Of course.”
Together, we started working our way through the old boxes. There were photos of my grandparents, photos of their parents, and various snapshots of the motel over the years. I’d seen some of them before, but there were several that were new to me. I wondered if my uncles had ever been through any of this stuff.