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)
As I wait for my fur baby to finish his business, my phone rings. I see my mom’s name on the screen and my gut drops.
Oh, no! Has she already seen the drama too?
She checks my pages—was my first follower, in fact—and I wouldn’t put it past her to start commenting back to rude people, getting into some social media war with AbbaQueen79 on my behalf if she felt it was warranted.
“Hello, Mom.”
“Hi, honey . . . are you busy?” Mom asks. “I’m in the garden, and I could really use some help. You said you’d come by soon?” she reminds me. “The weatherman said it might rain tonight, and if I don’t get it done, I’m going to have to redo the whole darn thing. Are you . . . working today?”
Well, I guess the good news is . . . Mom doesn’t know about the rude comments. Actually, her needing help is good news too. It’ll get me away from the screen, out in the sunshine, and working with my hands.
Maybe I can take another picture and post it, pushing the drama-affiliated one further down my feed?
That’s not a bad idea.
“Sure, Mom . . . gimmie an hour to get a couple of things done?”
“Thanks, honey! See you then!”
I hang up and see that Raffy’s finished too. I’d like to bring him along, but if we’re actually going to be working, it might not be the best idea. He tends to tear up the garden with his enthusiasm. And he’ll probably sleep all day after being spoiled rotten at Loretta’s. “Okay, baby . . . looks like Momma’s gotta help Grandma. I’m gonna need you to protect the place while I’m gone.”
* * *
Warm sun streams through the windshield of my VW bug, bright enough that I have my windows down to cut the heat, but just the right temperature to make going over to Mom’s house not so bad.
The beautiful day is already enough to lift my mood a little. Even Riley Sunshine needs a little sunshine sometimes.
And if the weather weren’t enough, there was the text from Noah wanting to get together tonight.
My reply was three words. Where, when, how?
In other words, absolutely, yes.
He and I have magnetism, and the way he ate me out . . . my thighs were still trembling after he dropped me off at my apartment.
He’s so much more than I assumed him to be. So much of his arrogance is hiding a sensitive soul, and just the fact that he’s let me see the real him means so much.
Too bad you still haven’t seen the one thing you really, really want to see.
Don’t remind me. I was nearly naked, with nothing but some translucent lingerie on. The truth is, I’ve fantasized about what I felt through his pants, and I’m yearning to see it.
I want him in my hands, in my mouth . . . inside me.
But it’s more than that too.
He also told me the photo from last night looked gorgeous and asked if I’m okay after the comments today, so I know he’s seen them. That was a harder question to answer, so I just sent back a thumbs-up and an eye roll emoji. And really, I am okay. Mostly. I’m used to this and have even been through worse. With as fast as the internet moves, it’ll probably blow over in twenty-four hours too.
I hope.
It definitely gives me pause about my decision to date, though, making me think I was right to put it off for so long. It’s one thing to put myself out there for public consumption and take the lumps with the loves. It’s quite another to ask someone else to do it for you.
I try to imagine Noah and me being at a point that I could post one of the adorable pictures we took together last night. Just a pre-date selfie, me and my guy dressed up for a night on the town. Or dressed down for an evening on the couch, digging into more tacos and sharing cheesecake.
What would River say? What would Arielle say? What would my followers say?
And most importantly, could Noah and I withstand all that?
Because that’s the whole point—to not be fake. To be real and show that life can be good without filters and manufactured lies, so that others don’t feel the need to negatively judge their own lives either. We all have days of excitement, but they’re sprinkled throughout long runs of mundane existence. The trick to finding joy is appreciating the ordinary and the extraordinary equally.
But I can deal with that later and focus on my date with Noah later too. For now, I’m going to help Mom in the garden as a mindful meditation about what’s important. Maybe there’ll be a lesson I can use in the dirt—something about digging your roots down deep so that when a storm comes through, it doesn’t leave you ripped to shreds.