Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Alana, Mars’s mother who looks like her twin sister, tries to comp our meal, but I insist on paying, considering how much Mars helps me out. Alana and I go way back. We had (and blew off) so many classes back in school. Our hijinks even got us sent to the principal’s office a couple of times. Alana doesn’t get to chat with us for long, sadly, considering how busy it is, but it’s always great to catch up with her. For our businesses being so close together, it’s a wonder we don’t hang out as often as we used to.
“Our one-month anniversary already passed.”
I flinch from my thoughts. “What?”
After a sip from his Coke, Sean smiles at me. “Over a month since I stole your nuts for the last time.”
“Oh. Time really flies by, huh?”
“I’m not the anniversary-celebrating type of guy.” He stirs his drink with his straw for a moment. “But if I was, how do you think we’d celebrate our one month?”
I fold my arms on the table and shrug, squinting in the sunlight. “Not sure. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone, so—”
“You mean ever since dart-thrower?”
That’s what we call Drake. We never actually say his name. Come to think of it, I can’t remember whether or not I even told Sean what it is. “Yeah. Since dart-thrower.”
“Your romance skills are rusty, then. You’re totally out of practice. Poor me.” Sean stirs his drink some more. We finished eating a while ago. Our crumb-filled plates rest on the table with an empty basket between us that once housed Alana’s special brand of delicious homemade tortilla chips. “I thought the phone was, like, maybe a gift to celebrate it. You gave it to me on the exact date of our one month.”
“Really? Well, it wasn’t a gift like that. It was more a practical gift. Something I thought you needed.” I smirk. “I don’t need an occasion to give you something you need.”
“Thanks. It helps me feel a bit more human again.” He traps some Coke into the straw with a finger, then brings the end of it to his mouth and playfully releases it. With a smile, he gazes at the water appearing thoughtful. “Can’t put a price on that.”
I tilt my head, trying to get a read on him. “Did you want to do something more special tonight? Is that it?”
“I wasn’t trying to suggest anything. Just being funny.”
“If you want something from me …”
“You’ll get it for me? Is that what you want to say?” He isn’t looking at me. “I’m not a starry-eyed schoolboy expecting monthly gifts and an abundance of attention. I’m an adult, like you. A realistic adult who knows how the world works … who knows some things aren’t possible.” He goes back to stirring his drink, then laughs suddenly. “Can you imagine that? Like, if a phone is my one-month gift, what are you planning to get me for our one-year? A car?” His eyes meet mine. The laughter fades. “Would you buy me a car, Coop?”
He’s not acting right. “Do you think I’m trying to buy your affection or something?”
“Would you have been so quick to help me that night if I was ugly?”
“What?”
“It’s an honest question. I’m not even sure I mind if the answer is ‘no’. Maybe I’d even respect an honest answer. You and I gave this some time, haven’t we? Are you happy with me? Do I make you happy? Or … Or am I just—”
I reach across the table and take his hand. “Sean.”
“Cooper …” He sighs as he stares at our clasped hands. “I think we should—”
Before he can finish that terrifying sentence, a shadow falls over the table, and a sweet old lady lets out a wiggly, happy little sound at us. “Sonny, boy, is that you??”
Sean looks up from his drink.
His eyes flash. His mouth hangs open. “Ma’am …?”
“It is you!” she sings happily, this old woman with big white cotton balls for hair, pale papery skin, and oversized sunglasses. “How wonderful! I said we would run into each other sometime soon, but I didn’t expect to actually—Oh, what a splendid Sunday afternoon this has become!”
Sean has trouble speaking. “Y-Yeah. Wow. I didn’t … I didn’t expect to, uh … to see you again so soon, ma’am.”
“Didn’t I tell you my name? It’s Pearl. Oh!” Her face lights up like a merry bonfire upon seeing me. “Is this him? Is this your Uncle Don? Hi there, Don! I’m—”
Before she says her name, her eyes fall on our hands.
Our clasped hands.
Sean retracts his at once, returning to stirring his drink with his straw. Mine are left on the table, where I stare up at the strange old lady and wait for her to continue.
When she does, her voice is changed. “I’m Pearl. I met your, um… your sweet nephew on a bus ride many weeks ago—I can’t even say how many.” She frets. “Are you his uncle? Oh, dear. Did I mistake you for his uncle?”