Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 98992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“Of course not,” Bambi snips upon having her own salad put down in front of her. “We’ve been together for months.” She tosses me an over-the-top look of love. “But it feels like lifetimes, right Collins Wollins?”
Thankfully, the cold dish is placed in front of me, providing the perfect excuse not to answer Bambi due to thanking Marigold instead.
“Do you have your own family tradition on the weekend as well? Dad investigates at the same instant he picks up his fork. “Is that why you haven’t been to ours prior to now?”
“No,” Bambi begins, pushing her hair behind her ear, “we don’t do shit like this. Like…ever. Ya know, outside of holidays.” She grows a charming smile. “I’m so thankful to be welcomed to do this with all of you.”
Nausea overwhelms my system to the point I fear I might puke on my plate.
There’s a nod of acknowledgement out of my father yet no words.
“Wait, did you say months?” Liz unexpectedly questions.
“They’ve been the best months of my whole life,” Bambi gushes so disgustingly that I have to place my fork down to stop from stabbing myself in the eye just to endure something less painful.
“Have you two been doing like a make up to break up thing?”
“No,” my girlfriend aggressively snaps. “Why?”
Cautiously Liz takes a breadstick from the plate being offered by Marigold. “Because I just saw Ryder and Presley together like a week ago.”
Bambi kicks me under the table, but I bite my tongue rather than grumble in discomfort.
We went to the movies last Monday. Neither of us were in the mood for a drive to the far theater – she was certain she fucked up one her finals, I was crabby I couldn’t be high through mine – so we went to one in town. She pushed for the theater with the nicer seats and service right to you while I campaigned for the shittier one in the mall claiming we were much less likely to be seen there, when in reality, I just didn’t have the type of cash to treat her to the better place. Most of our friends were in class, so running into them wasn’t likely. She weaseled her way out of her last period to “study in the library”, and I pretended to go home sick after getting the sweats in the period before. It was a foolproof plan until I saw Liz who must’ve been between classes. She attends a small, private, local college because it is one of the only places that requires, she transfers abroad to do a mandatory year of “French living”, which is one of her biggest dreams or some shit. I could see her making out with some dickhead in a leather jacket on her way out of Neiman Marcus when I was grabbing a soda refill at the concession stand. We locked eyes yet made no effort to acknowledge one another. Basically, I pretended not to see her and just like she pretended not to see me. She never actually saw Pres and I together, but she must’ve seen both of us at some point. I’m gonna guess when my girl got up to pee.
“Nope,” I smoothly deny, picking my fork back up. “We haven’t been together since the start of this semester.”
Her face scrunches in uncertainty. “That’s what I thought, too, but then Ally said she saw you and Presley around Halloween at the costume shop together.” Salad gets casually stabbed by her. “Guess I just sort of figured you two were doing the typical break up, make each other jealous with other people, get back together, shit.”
Yup.
That’s what we should’ve done.
Not this shit.
“I honestly thought the same thing, Liz,” my mother softly agrees from behind her wine glass. “Such a shame that you aren’t. Presley was an absolute doll. Fashion sense of Cinderella – like would it have killed her to put on heels for more than the ball – but sweeter than Moscato.”
There’s an unhappy huff from beside me that prompts Noah to chime in, “And I’m sure you’re a nice girl as well, Bambi.”
She’s not.
The word he wants is slutty.
My brother pulls apart the breadstick in his possession and does his best to engage in a conversation with her. “You excited about your last year in high school?”
“I have another year to go. I’m only a junior.”
My sister sneers her nose at the information prior to shoving more lettuce into her mouth.
“Have you already been looking at colleges?” My mother asks, leaning back in her seat. “I remember when Presley was reading up on some last year, discussing of course where she thought might be a good fit for her and Ryder, she mentioned that some asked for submission requests as early as the end of your junior year.”
Yeah, college was never about where she wanted to go, but us.