Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
“You used to be friendly?” Sparky asks with exaggerated curiosity in his voice.
Birch playfully snarls at Sparky. “It’s cold out, right? But like, I’m unnaturally cold…down south.” He drops his hands in front of his body, framing his crotch. “But I’ve got a long sweatshirt on and my big puffy coat. I’m thinkin’ I’m all covered, maybe it’s just colder than I realized.”
“Oh no,” Rav moans. “I know what’s coming.”
“My next-door neighbor was a cutie,” Birch continues. “She lived alone with her grandmother.” He presses his fingertips to his chest. “I’m a nice guy. Thought I’d go over and score a few points with Grandma by shoveling their driveway when I was done with my own.”
“Grandma got an eyeful, didn’t she?” Charlotte asks.
He holds his hand out in a slow down gesture. “Easy, Sunshine. I’m getting there.”
“Wait, this was in the middle of a snowstorm? How was your dick not shriveled up?” Stash asks.
“He’s a shower, not a grower,” a red-headed, freckled guy says with an approving nod.
“Thanks, Hoot. But actually, I’m both,” Birch insists, a slow grin spreading across his face.
The girls across from us fall into a fit of giggles.
Jigsaw leans close to me. “I should’ve warned you—half the stories my brothers tell end up being sagas about their dick or balls.”
“Men obsessed with their genitalia. You don’t say,” I tease.
His expression melts into something warmer and less tense. “Glad that’s not a deal-breaker for you.”
“I’m having fun,” I assure him.
“As I’m walking over to the neighbor’s,” Birch is saying as I tune back into his story, “I waved at someone passing by. Instead of waving back, they shouted at me and drove off. And I’m like, whatever. I was kind of walking out in the road, so I thought they were just pissed I was in the way.”
“Here we go,” Shelby mutters.
Shaking with silent laughter, I duck my head.
“Like a gentleman, I clear a path to the front door.” Birch’s voice lowers so most of us have to strain to hear him over the crackling fire. “As I’m finishing…” He pauses for a few beats. “Grandma comes to the door and calls me over to thank me and pay me a few bucks—which I was going to turn down.”
“Yeah, yeah, Saint Birch, we know,” Z chuckles. “Come on.”
“I’m gettin’ there, Prez.” Brich grins at him. “Okay, where was I?”
“Grandma saw your dick!” someone shouts from the other side of the fire.
Birch laughs, grinning so hard crinkles form at the corners of his eyes. “I’m cold by this point. I’ve been shoveling for like an hour. My legs are numb. I had gloves on, but they were wet and cold. Grandma calls my name. And like a dumbass, I stomp my way up to the porch, grinning like an idiot. Here I am, thinking I’m gonna get patted on the head and told I’m a good boy.” He runs his hands over his face. “And as I approached, Grandma’s sweet, angelic old lady face transformed into this look of horror and then anger.”
A low murmur of laughter ripples around the fire.
Birch stops and squeezes his eyes shut as if he regrets bringing up these memories. “She starts yelling at me, ‘Everest! Put your penis away, young man! What’s wrong with you!?’” he finishes in a scratchy, high-pitched tone.
“I think my soul left my body.” Birch wraps his arms around himself and shivers. “In slow motion, I glanced down.” His head drops as if he needs to reenact each movement to tell the story right. “And there’s my dick. Poking through my broken zipper, bobbing free in the ice-cold morning breeze.”
Everyone who’s been following the story explodes with laughter. The ones who’d tuned out now turn toward Birch, checking to see what they’ve missed.
It’s as if the laughter’s infectious. Once I start, I can’t stop. I pause for a breath, then Shelby’s giggles set me off again. Behind me, Jigsaw rumbles with laughter. Rooster’s deep bellows add to the merry soundtrack.
“My zipper broke. My damn sweatshirt wasn’t long enough.” Birch’s outraged voice barely carries over all the noise.
Tears leak out of my eyes, and I can’t catch my breath. The giggles just keep coming every time Birch says a word.
He knows it too and starts drawing out the story, adding more and more absurd details.
Shelby falls against me, shrieking with laughter.
“You weren’t wearing underwear?” Sparky shouts.
“Nooo,” Birch answers slowly. “I got dressed quickly that morning. Had my super-warm fleecy pants. Didn’t think I’d need undies.”
Undies. He didn’t. This guy, who’s as big as the tree he’s named after, said the word undies. I can’t. A few more snickers tumble past my lips.
Slowly, I catch my breath and sit up. Shelby’s wiping beneath her eyes. Anyone not still caught in a fit of laughter has their attention focused on Birch.
“Wait,” Lilly says. “Obviously it was an accident. That’s not nice that she yelled at you.”