Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“It’s not the last time you’ll be here,” Tris told me last night. “Amberfield and all of Kansas is always just a short drive away.”
I puffed out a little laugh. “Eight hours isn’t exactly that short of a drive,” I said. “But you’re right.”
Tristan had looked thoughtful. “Let’s make it a tradition, then,” he offered. “Every year, on your dad’s birthday, let’s visit. We’ll be able to see all the guys from Red’s, see your Dad’s old haunts, all of it.”
“That… sounds amazing, actually,” I told him. “And of course you came up with the idea, because you’re a damn genius, as far as I can tell.”
So, just now, when Tristan went and grabbed the package and set it down on the dining table in front of me, my heart skipped a beat.
“He must have already sent this a couple of days ago,” I said, marveling at the outside of it. “I like his decorations.”
The box was covered in stickers from Red’s Tavern: I’m Red’s Hot, Red-dy for Action, and a simple illustration of the brick front of the bar, awning and all.
I pulled out my multi-tool and used one of the little blades to cut open the tape. I opened it and smiled immediately.
“Called it,” I said, pulling out two tank tops, which were surprisingly tamer than I’d expected from Sam. They had a simple logo on the front that read Red’s Tavern: Where Anybody’s Welcome and Everybody’s Red Hot.
“That thing felt way too heavy to just be a box of tank tops,” Tristan said, coming over to rummage in the box. “Holy shit. Blue, look at this.” There was a layer of plastic bubble wrap and beneath it, Tristan unearthed something else. I set down the tank tops.
It was a frame. When Tris handed it to me, I choked up. Sam had put together a collage of photographs in a big, beautiful wood frame. First, I noticed the Polaroid pictures he had taken during our going away party at the Tavern. There was a photo of Tristan’s parents dancing like happy fools, a photo of Shawn and Nathan laughing with Red and Sam, photos of all of us tossing back margaritas, and my favorite: a photo of me with my arm around Tristan, when the two of us were swaying with the music and the tavern was alive all around us.
But scattered throughout, there were also photos from back in the day—ones I’d completely forgotten existed. Old photos where the colors were starting to fade. A picture my dad took of me in the backyard, where the trees looked impossibly small and young. A picture of Dad in the living room, setting up a VCR, smiling at the camera with a thumbs-up. A picture of the two of us in the front yard that Dad must have set the self-timer to take.
And throughout the collage, in all of the empty spaces, Sam had asked all of our friends from Red’s Tavern to sign their names with cute little notes.
“There’s more,” Tristan said, pulling out an old, tiny weathered box with a letter on top of it.
Hey there, Jack & Tristan. When we were cleaning out the attic, we found this old box of photos, tucked away behind one of the dusty bookshelves. I knew you’d love to see them. Feel free to take them off the collage if you want—I made sure they’re all removable. We miss you already. Xo, Sam & Fox.
PS: We hope you’ve already fucked in every room of your new house.
PPS: That last part was Sam’s idea to write. I didn’t condone it. -Fox
PPPS: He totally condones it. Love, Sam
I swallowed hard. I was smiling like an absolute idiot even as emotions rolled through me. “Did… did you know Sam was doing this?” I asked Tris.
“I had no idea,” he said, coming up to me and leaning against me in a side-hug. “This is so fucking cool, Blue.”
“It’s incredible,” I said. “And he’s nuts if he thinks I’m taking any of the photos off of this awesome collage. I think if I didn’t already bawl my eyes out yesterday, I’d be crying, but honestly? I just feel so lucky. Lucky that this is my life.”
Tris kissed the side of my jaw, then turned to kiss me sweetly on the lips. “We’re putting this right here,” he said, pointing to the main wall of the living room that led out toward the front door. “We’ll be able to see it every day.”
“I love it so much,” I said. “And I love you.”
“Oh God, I’m interrupting a love-fest,” Nathan said as he came over from the kitchen, setting down a big bowl of hummus drizzled with olive oil and herbs. “I hope you two are ready to eat. Whoa, that’s a cool collage.”
Nathan marveled at all of the pictures, laughing at the ones he was in, before Shawn yelled from the kitchen for help. We all filed in as Nathan was pulling a gorgeous roast chicken from the oven, complete with lemon wedges and veggies all around it.