Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
But those safe places steadily decrease as the days roll by.
I wonder if soon, we’ll have nowhere safe left to go.
The articles keep coming out, too, one by one. I only imagine how strange it must feel for Noah to write and edit them, knowing full well that he’s been made a willing participant in adding fuel to the very fire we keep evading each night we spend together. “You don’t have to worry,” I tell him on one such night when we find a secluded spot at Spruce Park: a bench hidden away by a thicket of trees and a rosebush with a view of the sunset. He just expressed feeling like he’s making our situation worse. “It’s just your job. If it gets people excited, then you’re doing it right. And hey, the more people talk, the more tickets will get sold to the event, Nadine will be mega happy, and isn’t that a win for all of us?”
Not an hour after those words fly past my naïve little lips, an article springs up in Brookfield about the “hot n’ hunky bachelors from Spruce, Texas stirrin’ up a steam storm in hopeful hearts”.
It’s soon followed by a similar article in Fairview.
And then a feature in the Houston Chronicle.
That’s about when the random phone calls start coming in. It doesn’t matter what hour it is—morning, noon, or night. I’m at the auto shop with my car when my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number and assume it’s a telemarketer. Then it rings again with a different number. And again. I eventually silence it and stuff it in my pocket—only for my thigh to then enjoy a never-ending series of unwelcome vibrations. I can barely pay attention to Joel as he tells me what they’re doing to fix the dent in my car. “Oh, by the way,” I remember to tell him, “your wife Mindy has a real knack for makeup! She made me look halfway decent,” I then tease, as I ignore the buzzing in my pocket. Joel just gives me a funny look, says, “Mindy’s got more talent in her thumb than I got in both of my hands, and I can only pray one of our kids adopts any of it.” He gives me a reassuring pat on the back. “I’ll have your car fixed up in no time. Lucky you, the dent didn’t affect the paint and isn’t all that bad. I’ll throw in a little discount for you, partly ‘cause this’ll be easy, and also ‘cause Mindy will have my ass if I don’t. Have you seen her when she gets mad? She’s worse than the kids.” He clears his throat and leans in to add, “Don’t tell her I said that.”
It’s a day later that I’m venting to Noah, as my phone persists in dinging relentlessly with texts, social media notifications, and random phone calls. “I don’t get it. It’s not like I’m some overnight country rock star. Should I just shut the thing off?” I ask, staring at my phone like it has grown a full face and become sentient. It’s the fifteenth call I’ve gotten this evening alone. “Or do you think I should start actually answering any of these?”
“Whether you answer or not, they’ll keep coming.”
“How did they even get my number?” I wonder out loud as I stare at my ringing phone. “I did take a call yesterday, as I thought it might be Joel at the shop, but it was just a random man asking if I was ‘that hot Mr. Perfect guy’. His voice was, like … scary deep.”
We’re in Noah’s room cuddled under a blanket on his bed. It’s eight o’clock. Jimmy had let me leave early even though my shift was until ten. “You need rest, man,” he had told me with a pat on my back. “I’ve got the feelin’ my mama’s puttin’ you through it. I sure hope you don’t regret agreein’ to be one of her sexy bachelor fellas.” I tried to assure him it was no big deal, but on my way out of the gym, I was quickly approached by nine different people asking me about the pageant, my part in it, and whether or not it’s true that I’m going to marry whoever bids highest on me. Where did that crazy-ass rumor come from?
Noah gently slips his arm around my back, pulling me out of my thoughts. “I’m worried about you.”
“Me?” I chuckle and toss my phone to the side. It lands on the pillow, still ringing. “Don’t be. There’s nothing to worry about. It’s just a bunch of men who are either excited about the upcoming event or … uh … horny, I guess. Time’s flying by. I can’t believe it’s already just a couple of weeks away.”
“Less than,” points out Noah. The phone stops ringing. He lets out a sigh. “It’s only going to get worse, you know.”