Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
That would be a great compliment if only I hadn’t heard the ‘I can’t believe it came from you’ that she was thinking and didn’t say at the end. But I’ll take the small headway I’m making.
“So, why’d you sign up?” I ask, my heart racing in my chest.
“I was trying to meet someone who likes me for me, not Riley Sunshine. The anonymous part was something I liked.” She picks at her taco, tearing the tortilla into small pieces and leaving them in a pile. “I didn’t mean that to sound stuck up. I’m not that popular.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I tell her, staying honest. “I can see why you’d want anonymity. And I could see some asshole trying to take advantage of you. Of course, you could tell them to fuck off.”
Riley laughs. “I can’t really tell people that. Nor would I want to. My whole brand is built on niceness, you know? Sunshine and positivity.”
The words hang in the air between us.
“I owe you an apology. A long overdue one,” I start.
“For what?” she asks, but her cute little feet are fidgeting. She knows what I’m talking about and is trying to play it off. For some reason, it makes me angry that she doesn’t just say ‘yes, you do owe me an apology because you were an asshole.’
“I said some awful things to you a long time ago, and I never got the chance to tell you how sorry I was. How sorry I am. That is one of my biggest regrets . . . that I lashed out in pain and caused you pain. You didn’t deserve that, and honestly, it had nothing to do with you. I’m just sorry.”
The apology doesn’t seem like enough. I’ve beaten myself up so many times for that conversation over the years that I don’t think I could ever find the words to express how awful it felt to let my anger bubble over that way and burn everything and everyone around me. I’d always been the one to look after my family, the responsible one, and I’d spouted off like a reckless, careless kid. Exactly what I’d accused Riley of being. Except she’d been eighteen and had every excuse to behave the way she did—like an idealistic dreamer. I was older, and I should’ve been wiser, but my dumb ass had started saying those things and I couldn’t stop.
She must see the pain on my face, or hear it in my voice, because she reaches out and covers my hand with hers. A shock of electricity goes through me where our skin touches. Riley doesn’t flinch away from it, though, curling her fingers through mine.
“Noah, don’t beat yourself up. It was a long time ago. I’ll admit that I’ve thought some pretty awful things about you over the years. A lot of them were born out of that conversation even though River explained what was going on after you ran out of there.”
He did what? I’m suddenly dying to know what he said and how he explained away my utter rudeness. But I don’t get the chance to ask because Riley’s moving on . . .
“But I’m not still pining away over some mean thing you said years ago. Do you know how many awful things people say to me every day? Your hair looks frizzy today. You look like you’re gaining weight. Are you losing too much weight? Are you seriously this happy all the time? Tone down the caffeine, it makes you obnoxious. Too perky at eight am. They go on and on,” she tells me casually, as if those words slide right off her back.
But they have to hurt, right?
“Nice doesn’t mean doormat. If you want to do something for you, do it. Anyone with a problem with it can fuck off.” Again, that’s my advice about anyone who doesn’t support me . . . or Riley. It doesn’t escape my notice that that’s exactly what she should’ve told me all those years ago. I deserved to be put in my place back then. It’d just been River who’d done it, not Riley.
Riley's eyes go wide like I'm spouting utter nonsense.
“I’d like to say that’s possible, but it’s a fine line. I accepted that when I started Riley Sunshine.”
“I get that, Riley, I really do. But maybe there’s something more to you than Riley Sunshine. Maybe Riley Watson deserves some happiness . . . ah, fuck, I’m not saying this right.” I run my fingers through my hair, remembering a second too late that they’re covered in taco grease. Great, now my hair is probably an oil slick.
“Do what I do,” Riley says, putting her hands up high in the air. With one brow quirked in confusion, I lift mine too. “Shake it out,” she tells me, wiggling her arms so much that her hands flap around. I wiggle too, but not as hard. “Good, now your head.” She shakes her head back and forth. “And your feet.” She stomps her feet, the thuds muffled by the rug, but Raffy jumps back with a sound of displeasure.