Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
How arrogant he was and how easily he ruffled my feathers.
“Your name, huh? Well, let’s see…” He squints his eyes as if thinking and gosh, I’m this close to strangling him. “From what I remember, your name is also known as reverberation, reflection and resounding. Isn’t it,” he pauses before adding, “Echo?”
Oh.
Okay.
I mean…
So he does remember.
Not only that, he also remembers my love for words. And gosh, my heart is pounding. My veins are buzzing and there’s a fluttering in my tummy.
“You’re a jerk,” I say, for making me think that he didn’t remember it.
His smile widens as he says, “Your turn.”
“At what?”
“Say my name.”
The crazy pounding of my heart gets crazier as I reply, “Reign.” His eyes turn even more glow-y and I swallow before continuing, “Also known as to rule and govern. Or be in power or dominate.”
“Dominate.”
“Yes.”
“I do like the sound of that,” he says, still watching me with the same intensity.
“You’re back,” I say then.
“What?”
“From Connecticut,” I continue. “Your school.”
He chooses to remain silent at this.
Self-conscious, I shift on my feet. “Are you, uh, back for your brother’s party?”
“No.”
“Oh.” Then, “Well, it’s just that you don’t come home very often and…”
“And what?”
“I was just wondering why that is and just… Yeah.”
“I think you know, don’t you?”
“I know what?”
“Why I don’t come back,” he narrows his eyes as if gauging me, “often.”
I do.
I do know that.
It’s because of his behavior. Rumors have it that his parents don’t want him here. They love him but he’s a handful, and so it’s best for everyone involved if he stays away. So it’s very rare for him to visit his home, and despite all the rumors and despite not knowing him all that well, my heart clenches for him. And I can’t help but say, “You should.”
“What?”
“This is your home.” I swallow. “You should come back and visit. Often.”
Again he maintains his silence, staring at me. And I hate that I brought this up.
All I wanted to do was talk to him, but I’ve unintentionally broached a topic that obviously is a sore spot for him.
I open my mouth to say something, anything, but he says, “So what else do you know?”
“What?”
“You know what school I go to,” he continues, widening his stance. “You know why I don’t come back here. I’m guessing you know a lot more.”
“It doesn’t matter what I know. It’s not important.”
“It’s kinda important.”
“Can’t we just forget about it?”
“No.”
“We should talk about something else.”
“Let’s talk about this.”
“Look,” I say, feeling like an idiot for ruining everything so quickly. “I don’t think you’re going to like it very much. What I know and what they say.”
“I think I can handle it.”
“I don’t agree with them.”
“You probably should.”
That actually doesn’t sit well with me. That he said that.
Not to mention that somehow we got here.
To this ugly, touchy topic.
“You want to know what I know, what they say about you? Fine, I’ll tell you. They say that you’re a rebel. That you’re a rule-breaker. A lawbreaker, a delinquent, an offender, a villain, a criminal. A bandit. They say that you’re dangerous and you’re always making trouble. It’s a good thing that you don’t come back because when you do, you always make things difficult. You always make it hard for everyone to deal with you, especially your parents who love you and just want what’s best for you. And that if I do see you when you’re back, I should run the other way. That I shouldn’t talk to you.”
Or at least that’s what they’ve told my mom over the last year.
I have to admit that I lied to her, or rather, never told her that I did talk to him that one time. And I know that I’m not going to tell her that I met him tonight either.
I’m not a liar, I swear.
I’m a good girl, a rule-follower.
But for some reason, in this scenario, I don’t want to follow the rules.
“But I want you to know something. I don’t put much stock in what I hear. I never judge a person based on rumors. Especially when you’re not here to defend yourself or tell your side of the story. The only thing that I believe in is that you helped me. Last time.” I swallow, my chest heaving with my rapid breaths. “I-I lied to you. I made up stories and… I shouldn’t have done that. I usually don’t lie. I’m not… I’m not a liar, but I did lie that night and you had every right to go to your parents about me, tell on me. But you didn’t. And I… I’m thankful. So that’s what I believe in. What you did, not what I hear.”
By the time I finish I realize that he’s much closer to me now than he was when I first started talking.