Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Kat and I steal a look of disapproval, but Henry’s shenanigans don’t dampen Shaw’s pride in getting his son through high school. He barely made it, so the diploma is a sacred accomplishment.
Hours later, we attend a white tablecloth dinner for the graduating class, where Henry shows up so impaired that it’s obvious he drank, snorted, or smoked something potent in the parking lot. Kat and I eat our salads dutifully while Shaw verbally berates Henry for always causing a scene.
“I’m fucking done with the bullshit,” Henry exclaims, slamming his drink down on the table. “They’re lucky I didn’t let them know how I really felt.”
Most people know Henry Shaw is a lot of bark compared to his relatively small bite. But people stare anyway and Kat looks uncomfortable.
Shaw continues to lecture his only real son as the band begins to play and a few people make their way to the area in front of the small stage to dance.
“Would you do me the honor?” I say half-jokingly to Kat. I’d do anything to exit this scene.
I offer her my hand, and she jumps at the chance. “Hell yeah, get me out of here,” she says through clenched teeth.
I stand and pull her to the dance floor, away from the dark energy that’s ruined our dinner before it’s even arrived.
“Henry’s a fucking pariah. He ruins everything he touches,” Kat spits.
She says it with such emotion that it doesn’t sit well with me. What was Henry’s relationship like with their mother before she passed away? What was his relationship like with my mother before she passed away?
The band strikes up “Summertime,” and the crooner, likely brought in from the city, does her best Billie Holiday impression. I grab Kat around the waist and pull her to me. We’ve danced before. On the beach, in the kitchen, hell, even in the garage a couple of times, when the music is right, and the mood hits us. I’ve never danced with anyone else.
“Congrats to the queen of tadpoles and the empress of my heart,” I say to her.
She does a curtsey which looks slightly ridiculous on her. Katelyn is many things, but perhaps physically graceful is not one of them. I grab her and lead her right into a dip where she closes her eyes and hangs on for dear life like I might drop her on the floor.
“Is she your girlfriend?” a young boy asks. He’s got his hair slicked back with a careful side part and is wearing a tie.
“She’s my boss,” I tell the young boy.
“Oh,” he says. “Is she nice to you?”
Katelyn can barely contain her wild smile.
“Sometimes,” I tell him frankly. “She makes me scratch her back and wash the dirt off her feet.”
The boy glances down at Kat’s flip-flop-clad feet, which are already dirty, and his eyes widen in surprise. Kat covers her mouth, and her eyes water with tears as she holds in her giggles.
The boy shrugs. “Does she pay you good, at least?”
I spin Kat and then yank her back into my chest. Can she feel the fervent beating of my heart against her back?
“She pays me in tadpoles. Sometimes shells or pond fish,” I tell him casually. “Stuff like that.”
“Why’d you want those things?” the boy asks. He squints up at Kat like she’s some sort of fairy witch.
“I’m a frog prince,” I tell him. “I don’t ask for much. Just some flies or some mealworms, and I’m happy enough.”
This time Kat’s eyes are truly tearing up. She covers her smile with her hand, and I take her other and offer it to the young boy.
“No thanks!” he says emphatically. “You guys are weird. So, do you turn into a frog when she kisses you?”
Katelyn is smiling as she grabs my head with both hands and plants a kiss on my lips. The world stops. It freezes in a kind of magical dream state. Kat’s lips on mine are playful and light, but the way my heart careens out of control in my chest is anything but. The earth moves with her touch, and I spiral through all our special moments together.
A cloudy gray day on the beach.
Running in the dunes hand in hand.
Slipping through tide pools.
Stepping through the creek and catching eels with our bare hands.
Watching the sunset over the sound while the lightning bugs hover and dot the sky in fairy lights.
The sun in her hair and salt on her skin.
The sound of her laugh echoing through me like therapy for my soul.
Her touch. Her lips on mine, and my fucking heart in my throat.
“Ewww, gross!” the little squirt says and disappears between the party goers’ legs. Kat gently separates from me and a pink blush rises to her cheeks as she looks into my eyes.
“You’re still a dude,” she says cheerily.
“I am craving flies,” I tell her with a smile.