Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
He smiles. “Well, then I’m gonna keep at it until you give in.”
Those are his dad’s words.
I don’t think he’s playing fair. I don’t think Abel even knows how to play fair. He’s crazy.
Crazy.
At dinner, my mom asks me what I do at the treehouse. “Maybe you should stop going there now. You’re not a kid anymore.”
With a pounding heart, I keep my eyes on the food. God, please no. That’s the only place I can see him without the fear of discovery.
But then, my dad comes to my rescue. “Leave her alone, Beth. It’s fine. It’s not hurting anyone.”
I don’t know what I’d do without my dad. He’s my life saver.
Really? Is he, though?
Why doesn’t he do anything about Mom’s pinching, then? Why is Abel the only one who’s bothered? Why is peace more important to my dad than I am?
They begin their daily argument, where Mom talks and talks and Dad simply lets her. I tune them out and think of David and Delilah. How happy they were. I think of their son, the boy I’m in love with, whose kisses get me through the day.
Then, I pray to God to give me strength because no matter how crazy it is, I wanted to say yes when he asked me.
Loving Abel Adams is hard work.
I thought being friends with him would be hard, but loving him in secret is harder. Good thing I don’t mind hard work. I’m good at it, in fact. I’m good at being protective of our love. I keep it hidden inside my heart, guard the secret with my life. Although I want to shout it out, tell everyone that I’m in love with the most amazing guy ever.
I’m good at sneaking around now. I lie. I make up stories to see him.
I tell my mom that I’m at the library for a study group. But in reality, I’m with Abel at Lover’s Creek. He can’t fit inside my tiny treehouse anymore, so we lost the best hiding place ever. But Lover’s Creek is good too, I guess. It’s on the other side of the town, at the edge. He drives us in his uncle’s old pick-up truck that he bought from him. That place is super beautiful. A stream running on one side and bushes galore.
People who don’t want to be found go there. People like us.
Though, I have faith. I have all the faith that when the time comes, God’s going to help us. We’re not doing anything wrong. We’re in love. It doesn’t matter how much my parents and a few other narrow-minded people hate David and Delilah. It doesn’t matter that they think Abel is bad. Nothing matters because in the end, we’ll be together. Love always wins, right?
I open my locker and find a tiny note wedged in between my notebooks, like the most cherished secret a person can have. I can hardly contain my grin. I know who it’s from.
Abel.
The boy I love is a total romantic.
Ever since we started sharing the same school space a year ago — I’m a sophomore and Abel is a senior — he’s been leaving me sticks of Toblerones and love letters in my locker. Tiny, one-liners that read both bossy and pleading.
Don’t wear that dress, Pixie. You trying to kill me?
Untie your braid, baby. Do it slowly.
I wanna kiss you. Can I kiss you, Pixie? Please? Can I put my mouth on you?
So maybe he’s not a romantic. Like his kisses, he’s a dirty romantic but I’ll take it, and my answer is always yes. To whatever he says.
The only thing that tops seeing his little notes is seeing Abel in person, which happens every day. Sometimes multiple times a day.
I see him walking down the corridors, carrying a backpack. Sometimes he has a sketchpad in one hand while he’s spinning his pencil with the other. Or sometimes he’s across the room in the cafeteria, biting into his apple, sharing lunch with me from across the distance.
Sometimes when the stream of students is thick and unknowing, Abel isn’t satisfied with only looking. He comes closer. He passes me by in the corridor, brushing my shoulders, making my breath hitch. It’s a small taste of his warm body and softer-than-the-clouds t-shirts and I always end up wanting more. So much more.
It didn’t take Sky long to figure out what was going on. I think she figured it out the first week we started high school. I denied it, of course. But she caught me.
“How long has it been going on?”
“Not long.”
“Evie.”
“Darn it. A year now, I guess. But he says it started the day we met. I’m not exactly sure I believe him.”
“Oh my God. That’s like… so intense and crazy. Are you in love with him?”
“Yeah.”
“Ohmigod. You’re so dead. Both of you. I guess your mom’s gonna kill him first, and then she’ll lock you up somewhere and leave you to die.”