Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
(And we can all agree it’s never been balanced. Not really.)
And still, look what all I’ve done:
I’ve survived a dead mom and a shitty dad (literally) and an adolescence with zero friends.
I’ve survived losing people and having no one and feeling like I’ll never be good enough.
I’ve survived heartache and heartbreak, and this hair.
I’ve survived addiction.
And every day I live, I can say that. I can list all those things, and shouldn’t that be enough to keep going?
I want Jake to wake up.
I want it more than anything.
But if he doesn’t, I’ll be okay.
I’ll live, and I’ll be okay (eventually). For both of us.
I jolt awake when CJ slumps into the chair directly beside me and knocks against my shoulder, and he’s so broad and thick in the arms I doubt it’s possible to not bump against me when he takes his seat.
And I didn’t mean to doze now anyway, so it’s fine.
“Hello,” I grumble, wiping sleep from my eye.
CJ peers over at me as my arm is slowly inched over by his arm, and then he smiles when my arm is dropped into my lap as he overtakes both of our armrests and really stretches the fuck out.
I look down at my arm, then at his arm between us, and then back over at him.
And I say, “Stop flirting with me.”
CJ’s laugh is breathy and soft. “Do you want your armrest back?”
“Are you going to just give it to me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know. Why would you just take it? I was comfortable.”
“Just treating you like family. Isn’t that what you’re gonna be?”
“Sure,” I slowly say. My eyes bounce between his. “You’re acting weird.”
“Am I?”
“Yes. Who just takes an armrest that’s being used?”
“Guys like me.”
“Ah. So dickheads?”
He stifles his laugh. “You must really love that armrest, little bro. Is it special to you or something?”
“I don’t lo—” My mouth snaps shut, and my eyes widen. “Little bro?”
CJ’s smile is so bright now. It’s weird.
All of this is weird.
“What,” he says.
And I say, “I’m not your bro.” Because I’m not. Straight facts.
We’re not related, and we don’t talk like buddies.
Not yet anyway. And maybe not ever, but definitely not yet.
But then he says, “You will be,” in this sly, all-knowing way, and CJ’s smirking now and still using both of our armrests!
And what!
I shove Jake’s hood back and free my head from its warm cocoon because I’m getting flustered which usually leads to me getting overheated and I don’t know what the policy is here on taking two showers in one day when you’re not even an employee. And then I haphazardly try and fix my hair without the benefits of a mirror which typically leads to disastrous results, but Jake can’t see me so who the fuck cares what my hair looks like.
I give up and leave it like it is and drop my head back against the chair.
And then I freeze every single muscle in my body and my eyes widen again because CJ leans forward and uses his finger to fix a few curls that lay on my forehead and the ones over my left ear, he gently brushes those as well, saying, “There we go. This looks good. Trust me.”
And this is the weirdest thing ever, right?
We lock eyes briefly and CJ flashes me a brilliant smile before pulling away and leaning back and acting like he didn’t just style my fucking hair.
I side-eye him and watch him mess around on his phone.
“What is happening?” I whisper, and I’m still frozen against the chair. “Am I dreaming? Oh, shit. Am I dead? No. I didn’t take those pills. I’m sober. I’m completely sober and losing my mind. Of course. Years of drug use. My brain has been slowly dying forever. This was bound to happen eventually. Fuck. What if I lose bodily functions next and shit right here… oh no. I’m turning into my dad.”
“What the hell are you rambling about?” CJ asks. “I just figured you’d like your hair to look nice since you’re about to fly out of that chair.”
“And why would I do that?” I turn my head and ask, “Are there donuts in the break room?”
“How would I know if there are donuts in the break room?”
“We have access to it.”
“Who said?”
“Your wife.”
His jaw tics. “My wife gave you access to the break room?”
“Yes. I’ve been taking showers in there.”
“And eating donuts?”
“They occasionally have them. I had some two days ago.”
“What the fuck. I wasn’t offered any donuts…”
“Maybe Riley didn’t give you access to the break room. Just me.”
CJ cocks his head.
“Or maybe she wanted me to tell you about the donuts. Hey, guess what? They have donuts occasionally in the break room, CJ. Maybe they have some today. Should I fly out of my chair and go check?”
“I think what I’m about to tell you is better than free donuts.”