Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Libby’s waiting on the front steps of the school talking to a group of her friends when I pull up. She and another girl jog to the car. Libby yanks the passenger-side door open.
“Do you mind giving Linda a ride home?” she asks.
“Of course not.” I hit the button to unlock the back door and Linda throws herself across the seat. “Thank you,” she breathes out in a rush. “My mom got called into work.”
“No problem.” I turn around so I can see her face. “Do you want to come over to our place?”
“No, no. I’ll be fine. My brother’s home. He just doesn’t drive.”
“Okay.” I glance at Libby who shrugs.
The girls chatter about the play and I half-listen while I try to remember where Linda lives and forget about Dex.
“It’s up here on the right.” Linda’s hand appears in my peripheral vision. “The one on the corner. Be careful at this intersection. Someone took down the stop sign and people fly through here,” she warns.
That’s just great. Thankfully, it’s dark in both directions, no oncoming headlights illuminate the dark road, so I step on the gas. “That’s dangerous.”
“Yeah, my mom keeps calling town hall.”
I pull up to the curb and Linda throws the back door open. “Thank you, Emily! See you tomorrow, Libby!” She grabs her backpack and slams the door shut, waving wildly as she runs over the grass. I wait until she’s inside, then pull away from the curb.
“Thanks,” Libby says. “I know it’s out of our way.”
“Not a problem,” I assure her. “I’ll always give your friends a ride. You know that.” I glance over. “What was she going to do if she couldn’t find someone to drive her home?”
Libby shrugs. “Call a Lyft, I guess.”
“That could take forever out here,” I mutter.
“One of the other parents probably would’ve done it,” Libby assures me. “Anyway, I have rehearsals every night this week, except tomorrow. Saturday I’ll be there all day.”
Were school activities this much of a time commitment when I was in high school? Actually, I wouldn’t know. I never had the chance to participate in any, except for a season of field hockey my freshman year. “When will you have time for homework?”
“Emileeeee,” she groans. “Have I ever not done my homework?”
‘No, but I don’t remember you putting this many hours into a play, either.”
“Really? I feel like they always swallow up my time.”
“Isn’t that the truth. Oh, hey, I stopped by to see Serena and the baby on the way home.”
“Aw, you went without me?”
I glance at the clock. “Visiting hours are over by now. But I told Gray we’d come by the house and help out when she gets home.”
“Is he cute?”
“The baby?”
“Duh, yeah.”
I shrug. “I guess. They all look like little wrinkled prunes when they’re that tiny.”
“Ewww.” She shakes her head.
I pull into our driveway. “What do you want for dinner?”
“I ate at rehearsal. They got us pizza.”
“Lord, you’re going to turn into a pizza pretty soon.”
She chuckles and hurries ahead of me to open the front door.
Inside, I set my stuff down and head to the kitchen. I peer into the fridge and grab a slice of broccoli pizza and slide it into the toaster oven.
Don’t think about having dinner with Dex.
While I’m waiting for it to warm up, Libby joins me.
I wanted to have this conversation in the car but I got distracted with giving her friend a ride and forgot to bring it up. The way Dex acted earlier, this conversation might not even be necessary.
My phone buzzes.
Dex: Did you and Libby get home okay?
I blow out a breath and close my eyes.
A childish urge comes over me to ignore the text. Let him think I’m still mad about earlier.
But I’m not seventeen years old. I like Dex too much to play games.
Yup. We’re sitting down for dinner now.
I set my phone down and focus on my sister. “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”
Libby plucks an apple out of the basket on the counter and turns it in her hands, studying the skin. The kid bit into an apple with a worm in it once and it scarred her for life. “Yeah, sure,” she mumbles, still studying the apple.
“I’m sorry about last night, early this morning.” Embarrassed to be having this talk, I turn around and fill a glass with water, then set it on the table.
She frowns. “What are you sorry about?”
“Well, it’s not…I shouldn’t have guys over…expose you to…” How can my little sister get me so flustered with one tiny question?
Finally deciding the apple must be safe, she bites into it with a hard crunch, then still munching away, leans on the counter next to me. “It’s not like you’re exposing me to weird randos in and out of our house, Em. Have you even dated anyone since Aunt Kim died?”