Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“Coach would kill you for getting one during swim season.”
I clenched my jaw, remembering that his dad was watching our interaction. “I couldn’t anyway because of the healing time and being constantly waterlogged.”
“It can take weeks to heal, and avoiding water is recommended,” Remy explained. “We talked about all that. For now, he’s just going to think about it.”
“Good idea to wait,” Mr. Duval said as he buttered his bread. “But Bailey has a point. A tattoo probably wouldn’t suit you.”
I gritted my teeth, wondering what in the hell he meant, and ready to argue the point with him. But Remy nudged my leg under the table and gave a slight shake of his head.
“I’m sure Alex can make that decision for himself.” Remy’s tone was resigned, and my gut tightened because neither his dad nor his brother appreciated him enough. “How’s business, Dad?”
Mr. Duval launched into news about the insurance company and his travel plans while the food was served and we dug in. I felt guilty tuning him out and focusing on how good my plate of chicken and rice was, only catching a mention of his girlfriend once or twice—apparently, they were back on.
I could only imagine how hearing that felt, even two years out, and it might’ve been why Bailey brought up Mrs. Duval straight after as if trying to frame her in a positive light, for who knew what reason. It was truly remarkable to watch, like he really was stuck in the past and thought his parents might have a chance at reconciling.
Though Remy offered, Mr. Duval insisted on paying for the meal, and we all thanked him as we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.
Bailey was quiet the entire trek back to the dorm, and whether it was because of my confession about the tattoo parlor visit or the conversation with his dad, I didn’t know. I could’ve asked, but I just wasn’t in the mood.
That went better than I thought, Remy texted later that night. Thanks for showing up.
No problem. At least your dad seemed to make an effort with you.
Eh, sure. It’s something. Suppose he means well.
I thought back to sitting across the table from Remy, where I could easily read his expressions. We’d essentially been playing footsie under the table, which was so not smart.
My foot thanks you, btw, for letting it out of your hairy leg prison.
Hairy leg prison? WTF?
You were wearing shorts, and I had to endure being poked by your wiry man hairs the whole time.
Lies. Your foot loved being imprisoned by my legs.
Are we honestly talking about our body parts as if they’re sentient beings?
Look at you, using big-boy terms. We’ve already admitted we’re ridiculous.
This takes the cake.
Good night, Carl.
I grinned at the ceiling for way too long.
15
Remy
It was Saturday morning, and I was headed out the door to the teen center, feeling a bit nervous, though I wasn’t sure why. We were told to wear clothes we didn’t mind getting dirty, which was pretty much the story of my life in the art department. So I’d slipped into paint-stained jeans and an old worn T-shirt.
“Have fun,” Derek said, hovering over his bowl of cereal with a wicked hangover from partying last night at the Stormer House. I’d joined him a couple times, mostly to play video games and eat some edibles, but I could’ve easily gotten a contact high from the bong alone.
“Thanks for jinxing it,” I muttered as I grabbed my keys, and he laughed.
I met Alex, along with the other club members, including Steve and Jordan, at Bean Necessities for some fuel, and after introductions, we were on our way.
“Had no idea you’d even signed up, Duval,” Steve said, apparently thinking it was cool to use my last name. Athletes did it to each other all the time, which was pretty dumb. And they also seemed proud of themselves, which was also dumb. Alex smirked at me as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. I was pretty sure I hadn’t heard the swim team refer to each other that way, so maybe just the contact sports. It was probably a necessary bravado thing after guys wrestled each other in the grass or patted each other’s butts. I’d have to bring up the whole stupid last-name thing with Levi next time we ran into each other. He’d studied the football team enough to know the reasons behind their habits, I’d bet.
“Sure, why not?” I replied, suddenly regretting my decision.
We chatted on the walk over, and it felt good hanging out with Alex minus Bailey’s scrutiny. Though I noticed a few sneaky glances from Jordan. Not sure what that was about, but it made me wonder if I’d been right about him eyeing up Alex all along. Except Alex also told me he’d taken up for him after being gone so long the night we went out for pizza, so I knew he was a decent guy. And he seemed to have a thing for Steve, so it must’ve been jealousy rearing its ugly head again. I’d never been the possessive type, so it pissed me off and made me question my decision all over again.