Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“You’re really good,” I said again, feeling strangely insecure. I’d never felt that shit in my life. Well, that was probably a lie. Everyone felt unsure about something, but again, I was usually one who could settle in and feel comfortable in every situation. And yet, I felt out of my element sitting there with Remington.
“Thanks…”
“Oh. Lawson,” I said, realizing he didn’t know my name. Jesus fuck. What was wrong with me?
“Remington.”
“I heard.”
“Oh yeah. Obviously.” His eyes darted away, that pink back on his freckled cheeks.
Then suddenly, we were both laughing. It started off as a chuckle and got louder. These deep belly laughs that made absolutely no sense. Maybe we were both a little fucked in the head, but at least we were doing it together.
“I don’t know what I’m laughing about,” I finally said.
“Me either,” he replied, which just made us do it more.
A couple walked by and looked at us like there was something wrong with us, and I couldn’t say I blamed them.
“I think…I think I’m going to go for a walk before heading out.”
My gut clenched, nerves running down my spine. Like an idiot, I simply sat there and stared at him.
He frowned, then, “Do you, um…wanna go?” he asked, his voice softer, shy.
I’d never had a guy ask me to go for a walk in my life. Not that I hadn’t walked with men. Maybe it was ridiculous, but in the asking, it felt unique. And it wasn’t anything I had ever considered before, that different feeling with a dude. He was so damn interesting to me.
“That was dumb. I didn’t mean anything by it. I don’t know why I asked—”
“No,” I cut him off. “Let’s go.”
We stood. “Do you want to put your backpack in my car?” He pointed to it. “I know it’s not much…”
“It runs. That’s what matters.” I handed it over, and he put it in the trunk alongside his guitar.
We were quiet as we started to walk. Eventually, I asked him again about music. It was like a fire lit in his eyes, and I couldn’t help but lose myself in the glow. I’d never loved anything as much as Remington obviously loved music. He talked about how he’d written all his life and how he’d always been interested in playing. About a used guitar he got at a yard sale when he was nine and how he’d never looked back. He taught himself how to play and read music.
“What about your family?”
“Don’t know where my dad is.” He shrugged. “It’s me, Mom, my brother and sister. You?”
“I have a brother and sister as well. I’m the oldest.”
“Same! Mom’s always had it rough, taking care of all of us. I’m hoping one day she won’t have to. I’ll be able to do it with my music, ya know?” He glanced my way before eyeing the ground again. “I mean, I doubt it’ll happen. I get it, but…”
“I think you will.” Sometimes you said things to people simply to say them, because it was the right thing or because you wanted to make them feel better, but this wasn’t one of those situations. I believed Remington would make it. If someone who loved music as much as he did and just wanted to take care of their family couldn’t make it, the world was fucked. I refused to believe that.
“Yeah?” he asked with hope in his eyes.
“Yeah. Did you play in school? In the band or anything?”
He shook his head. “We were homeschooled, so I didn’t get to do stuff like that.” He sounded lonely.
I couldn’t believe all the things he told me. I’d always thought I was the type of person who didn’t care what other people thought, but talking with him, I realized I did. That I wasn’t unapologetically me, I just allowed myself to change who I was and fit in with others around me.
I wanted to be more like him. I was…fuck, I was strangely in awe of the guy.
I didn’t want to tell him anything about myself because it suddenly felt fake, petty, insignificant. I’d never loved anything or had to fight for anything, especially for something like having food or paying bills. It wasn’t that I’d never seen it. People of all classes lived in Havenwood, but it was different hearing Remington talk about it.
“So…you come from money,” he said eventually.
“Is it that obvious?” But of course it was. I’d never felt weird about it until that moment, like why did I have so much and he didn’t? I didn’t want to be Lawson Grant to him, the kid who grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth.
“Does that surprise you?” Remington asked, and I chuckled.
“I guess not. I just…want to be me.”
“That is you.” His brows pulled together. “Doesn’t have to be all of you, but it is you. There’s no changing that.”