Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
The door opens in a rush, and Blake comes into view. He seems surprised to see me. “Rebecca.” He smiles; he has a towel around his neck.
“Are you going swimming?” I ask.
“What?” He wraps the towel tighter around his neck. What is he doing with that towel?
“The towel.”
“Oh . . . yes.”
I hear Henley and Antony’s loud laughter coming from inside. “Am I interrupting something?” I ask.
“Not at all.” Blake glances inside to where the laughter is coming from, then steps out onto the front porch and closes the door behind him. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to talk about last night.” I twist my hands in front of me nervously.
“What about last night?” he replies quickly.
“I just wanted to thank you for being so honest. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.”
His eyes widen. “Honest . . .”
“Yeah.” I smile. “When you told me about your old girlfriend and what she did.”
Blake’s eyes narrow as he stares at me. “Go on . . .”
“And . . .” Ugh, he’s not making this easy for me. “I just . . . I think I want to do it.”
“Right . . .” He frowns as his eyes hold mine.
“Well, not that I want to, but I feel that I need to.”
“Oh . . . kay.”
“But I don’t want anyone to know. You have to promise to keep it a secret.”
He opens his mouth to say something and then closes it again before he does.
Loud laughter erupts from inside his house.
“What’s so funny in there?” I frown.
“Um . . .” He drags his hand down his face. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you, anyway . . . so, this secret.”
“Yeah, if you could help me, I would really appreciate it. I mean, I know how busy you are, and to fit this in every day is a big ask.”
He blinks as if processing my words.
“Aren’t you hot in that towel?”
“Nope, I’m cold.” He grips it harder.
“So . . .” I pause. “Do you think we could start tonight? I just want to stop overthinking this and get started before I can chicken out.”
“Um . . .” He pauses.
Laughter erupts again from inside.
“Are they still drunk?”
“No doubt,” he stammers. “Listen, Bec.” He twists his lips as if thinking. “We had so many conversations last night. Remind me what we are talking about again?”
“Foot Finder.”
He screws up his face. “What about it?”
“Remember you told me that your girlfriend from college used to upload pictures of her feet to Foot Finder and get a few hundred dollars every week from it, and nobody ever knew?”
His mouth falls open. “Oh . . .”
“I know this is extreme, but I’m going to have to move if I don’t find an extra eight hundred dollars a week.”
“Right. Okay, now I’m on board.” He nods. “You can definitely upload pictures of your feet. Weirdos pay big money for hot little feet like yours.”
“But they can never find out it’s me, can they? Like, I’m not going to have some serial killer come and find me and chop my feet off, am I?”
“I sincerely hope not.”
“You said last night that you can take the daily photos for me. Will that be a hassle for you, though?”
“Looking at your feet and hot legs could never be a hassle.”
I smile, relieved. “So we can start tonight?”
“Yes.” He thinks for a moment. “Where did you sleep last night?”
“Very funny.” I smirk.
“Is it?”
“Oh my god, I bet Taryn is feeling it.”
Confusion flashes across his face. “Feeling what, exactly?”
“Oh my god, Blake, stop.” I smile. “You’re such a tease.”
Laughter erupts inside again. “Listen, I have to go,” he stammers in a fluster. “I’ll be over later.”
“Remember, nobody can ever know about this,” I remind him.
“Of course not.”
He disappears inside, and I smile in relief. That wasn’t half as embarrassing as I thought it was going to be. Blake is the only one I would trust to help me with this. He’s the most unjudgy person I know, and besides . . . he knows what images will sell. If anyone knows porn, it’s him.
We start this tonight, and tomorrow, I tell John to stop paying my bills.
He can go to hell.
I’ve cleaned my house until you could eat off the floor, and suddenly I’m feeling reinvigorated. This is it; this is the answer I’ve been searching for.
Sell a few anonymous foot pictures, and voilà, the house is saved.
I smile as I buzz around with a spring in my step. Things are looking up.
Right at eight, knock, knock.
I open the door to see Blake standing on my porch with his big fancy camera.
“Hello.” I smile.
“Hi.”
“Why are you wearing a scarf?”
“I’ve got a stiff neck and need to keep it warm.”
“Oh . . .” I frown. “When did you do that?”
“Last night.”
“Are you okay?”
“Fine. Professional Foot Finder at your service.” He dips his head as he walks past me, and I giggle.