Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“More like five!”
“It has definitely not been five days.”
He sighs, dropping his arms to his sides. “I cannot believe you were just gonna leave it like that. I read that stupid letter and … and damn it, Malckie, I was so mad at you.”
“You were mad that I basically called you a better person than me? A person I wasn’t ready for?”
He frowns. “You didn’t say that.”
“It’s written between the lines, Samuel, did I need to supply a spoon as well to feed you the meaning of my letter?”
I guess this lovely conversation Cole meant us to have isn’t going all that well.
A moment passes as we stand there, huffing and puffing and feeling our feelings. I cross my arms, then uncross them, then cross them again. He keeps looking everywhere but me, angry.
But neither of us leave.
We stay right there, standing in front of each other, as if some unseeable power keeps us here together, waiting, wishing, hoping.
I close my eyes. “I … I do appreciate that you took care of me.”
I hear him shuffle slightly. Then he sighs. “Well, who the heck else was gonna?”
“I didn’t deserve your kindness, but you gave it anyway.”
“I sure did.”
I open my eyes but look away, hugging myself tighter. “I wish I didn’t come into this town with a chip on my shoulder. If I’d been mature enough to deal with these foolish grudges before I came, I might’ve …” My mouth twitches. “I might’ve been able to see the great guy I was lucky enough to run into.”
His lack of fidgeting tells me he’s listening.
To every word.
“I wrote those words in that letter because I’m terrible at this kind of thing. I haven’t been the same since my mom left, as if she took a part of me with her on her way out. I can’t trust my feelings that easily anymore. I don’t know whether I’m being flirted with, rejected, hit on, or excluded from the whole party. I sure wasn’t planning on being here today.” I drop my arms. “I don’t think any letter could properly convey what our time together has meant to me these past few days.”
He still says nothing.
I’ll be lucky to even get a roll of his eyes before he’s decided he’s done playing games with me and takes off, finished with the foolish fiasco from Fairview that I am.
“Anyway, I’m sorry I wasted your time. But also thank you,” I add with a sigh, “because at least now I know what it feels like to have my heart race. If I’m being perfectly honest, I’m not sure any date with Bobby or day out with Cole even came close to how I feel when I’m with you.” I wince. Was that saying too much? “But maybe it’s just because you know how to annoy me. I can’t say I have ever met anyone who can more effectively and efficiently annoy me in the way you have. I don’t know what that means.”
Samuel’s face twists.
But still he says nothing.
“What?” I flinch, seeing his expression. “I’m just being honest. You annoy me. Like, a lot. I don’t like to—to be annoyed.” My voice falters. “Would it kill you to say something back??”
He purses his lips and tilts his head, appearing to consider my question, yet he remains entirely silent, giving me nothing.
I know he’s making this hard on me on purpose.
I drop all of my attitude. “Fine. You want to know the truth, Samuel Buckley? Cole was right. You’re a great guy who deserves a better person than me.” I clear my throat and avert my eyes. Then I let out a defeated sigh. “I guess I should just go. If you’re staying for the wedding, tell Cole I’m sorry that his sneaky lil’ plan didn’t work out.” I press my lips together. “I’m sorry to you, too. I only have myself to blame that I’m not good enough for you.”
Finished, I turn to leave.
Samuel’s voice stops me. “Yet.”
I’m gripping the door handle when he speaks. I glance at him over my shoulder. “What?”
“Your little letter. That’s what you meant, right? Didn’t need a spoon to get that context.” He takes a few steps toward me. “You feel like you aren’t good enough for me … yet.”
I turn to face him completely.
Is this him conceding to me at last? Giving in? Letting me off his pointy and deservedly unforgiving hook?
“I need time,” I tell him, clarifying. “I need time to work on myself. I have a lot of work to do.”
“Oh yeah, I know you do.”
I’ll forgive his critical tone of voice. “Yes, I do.”
“A whole lotta work.”
“I know.”
“Like, I can’t even quantify how much work it probably is.”
He’s really picking that bone down. “I get it, Samuel.”
“Might even spend the whooole rest of the year doin’ it.”