Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“When did he tell you this?” she asks quietly.
“Yesterday,” I say. “He came to talk to me after the barbecue.”
“Asshole,” she mumbles. “Go get dressed. We definitely need ice cream.”
“I don’t want to go,” I say. “I have ice cream here.”
“I want you to go and get dressed, or I’ll dress you myself.”
“I don’t know why we are even friends,” I huff out, stomping to my bedroom with her behind me. I don’t have time to grab the picture and put it away before she sees it.
“You kept this?” She sits on the bed and holds the picture in her hands. We shared a dorm room when we were in college, and I kept this picture beside my bed.
“I kept it all,” I say as I walk to my closet and take down the box that says riding gear all over it. When I walk back into the bedroom, she looks at me with her mouth open. “Before you came in, I decided I was going to get rid of it.” I put it on the bed and open it up, and the minute I do, I know it’s going to be the end of me. There on top of the box is his shirt that I wore every single night to bed for a year. I refused to wash it because I was scared that his smell would go away. I bring it to my nose and tears fall on it before I smell it.
“You haven’t washed this shirt in five years!” she shrieks from the bed. “That’s fucking gross.”
“You can still smell him.” I smile and hold the shirt out for her, but she backs away from it.
“I’ll take your word for it.” She grimaces, and I laugh, putting it aside.
Taking out the pictures that are on the top, I flip through them. I’m in his arms in all of them, and he looks at me with a huge smile or I look back at him. “This one is my favorite,” she says, taking the picture she took one morning when we were on the beach.
We had stayed at the beach for the weekend, and I begged them to watch the sunrise with me. It wasn’t even a warm day, and the wind was blowing fierce. I had to put on one of Ethan’s sweaters just to keep warm. Ethan sat on the sand and opened his legs for me to sit between them. I sat down with my back to his chest. He put his arms around me, and I leaned back into him. The sun slowly peeked out of the darkness, and the sound of the waves crashing into the sand filled the early morning quietness.
“Look how pretty that is.” I point at the sun coming up at the same time that Jenna took the picture. The sunrise was a light purple, and with my hair blowing and his face by mine, it was magical.
“It was a good day,” she says as I sit down.
They were all good days, I think to myself, until the one really bad one, and then, all the good left. Putting the pictures down, I walk over to my closet and slip on a pair of skinny jeans and a white V-neck T-shirt, then slide on my white Vans. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to return that,” I say, pointing at the box and putting everything inside it. “I don’t want it. Maybe this is the thing I need to be set free.” I throw my hands up.
“You’re going to go and bring him this box from five years ago?” She points at the box, trying not to laugh. “To be set free.”
“Yes.” I roll my eyes, picking up the box and walking out of the room.
“You forgot this one,” she says, holding up the frame on my bed. I look at the box and then look at her and then look at the box again.
“It won’t fit.” I make the excuse and walk out of the house to her laughter. I put the box into the trunk and make my way over to the house where he is staying. The sun is slowly setting when I pull up to the house. I get the box out of the back and walk up the steps to the front door. I press the doorbell and wait.
My heart is beating so fast that I’m surprised my shirt isn’t moving. The sound of it echoes in my ears, and my mouth is suddenly so dry that I feel like I’m swallowing sand every time I try to swallow. I wait for a minute, and nothing happens, and the adrenaline suddenly starts to go away, and I have a slight moment of panic.
“What the fuck am I doing here?” I say to myself and then look at the box in my hands. “Oh, good god, this is a bad idea.”