Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 95340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
I let him go on without me ’cause, “Oh my god, this paint!” Fan after fan of sample colors reel me in as if I were a fish on a line. My fingers immediately gravitate toward the paint chips.
They have every color under the sun!
Hardware stores are so fun!
My eyes scan the rainbow of hues before landing on a shade of soft pink that immediately captures my attention; a delicate pink, a perfect reflection of my personality that would be amazing painted on my bedroom walls.
“I love this color,” I breathe out, loving the hue. "Brodie, look at this color," I exclaim, holding up the paint chip for him to see, waving it high above the aisle so he can see my arm. "Isn't it so beautiful?”
He studies it for a moment before turning to me with a grin. "I like it. It's cute.”
Cute, just like you, I imagine him saying as I stare down at the color in my hand, a blush creeping up my cheeks even though he didn’t say the words. I only imagined them.
But still. “You think it’s a cute color?” I tease. “Then I think I'm going to get a gallon of it."
“You’re going to buy paint?” Brodie appears out of nowhere, following my voice, already shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to paint any walls in your place. I know we aren’t.”
Not allowed to paint my bedroom walls? That is the dumbest rule I’ve ever heard of. It’s my bedroom. That I live in, so of course I should be able to paint it any color I want.
“Boo! Hiss!” I frown, jutting out my hip. “Like how much trouble are we talking about getting into here?”
“A lot, probably. Like you would probably lose your security deposit.”
Shit.
Our security deposit was around twelve-hundred dollars, and I know we’re all planning on getting that cash back at the end of the semester.
“Okay but…” My sentence trails off. “What if I don’t say anything and repaint before we move out?”
He shrugs. “Or you can just use this paint chip as a bookmark.”
Blah.
“I don’t want to use this as a bookmark. I want to paint my walls!” Suddenly impassioned, I grab a gallon jug of paint down from the shelf and head toward the paint counter with it. “I won’t say anything if you don’t say anything.”
“So now I have to keep your secrets? Damn, Lizzy.” Brodie laughs as the guy behind the counter uses a small bottle opener-looking kind of tool to pry the top off, then setting to work adding color to the white base.
“You don’t have to keep my secrets.” I smile at him, fluttering my lashes. “But if you want to help me paint my room, you can.”
“Help paint your room?” He blinks. “No one wants to paint a bedroom. Literally no one.”
“Just one wall? As an accent?”
I hear him muttering to himself as I wander off again, this time to the landscape department, running my finger over a metal dragonfly lawn ornament. It’s been spray-painted to a glossy shine, with rhinestones in bright pink, yellow, and blue on its wings.
I flick one of the wings, causing it to twirl.
“Cute.”
Watching him over the aisles, I observe him as he scans the shelves. I can see his inner cogs turning and the debate in his eyes as he decides over this and that, leaning forward to take a tool off a rack. Staring at it. Putting it back.
He does this several times, never noticing me noticing him, and I feel like a creep for gawking at him.
It’s like I said before. There isn’t really anything that stands out about Brodie. On the quiet side and unassuming, he tends to be more observant than part of the fray. He reads. Does homework. Studies.
He’s focused on his sport, and unlike his teammates, he doesn’t seem to make sex a priority. Nor dating.
Maybe because he’s shy?
He doesn’t strike me as insecure, but then again, I don’t know him all that well.
He really is pretty cute.
I don’t know why I wrote him off when I saw him standing on his porch the other night, but the more I spend time with him, the more adorable I find him—even though he is unwittingly oblivious. I can hardly believe the guy hasn’t flirted with me once.
Not even once, not even a little.
It’s seriously blowing my mind.
Not that I’m like, a beauty queen or anything, but I get by just fine thankyouverymuch. I get hit on at the bars all the time, and sometimes in class, so the fact that Brodie has barely noticed my boobs or my butt or my flirtatious smile is making me study him even further.
And he is completely unaware.
Fine.
I grab a few paint brushes—I’m going to need them since I have zero painting essentials at my house—some blue tape so I can trim the ceiling and floorboards, and take those to the counter to pay once my paint is done being shook and shaken within an inch of its life.