Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
SinnerThree: Good call.
LobsterShorts: But enough about me. How’s work going?
SinnerThree: It’s awesome.
I wait for more details, but they don’t come. I stifle a sigh.
LobsterShorts: Glad to hear it.
SinnerThree: Speaking of work, I should get back to it. Keep me posted on the Big Willy hunt.
He signs off, and I’m left feeling equal parts encouraged and discouraged. Once again, he pulled back. But he did request I keep him posted. So…that’s progress.
Right?
LobsterShorts: GUESS WHO I SAW TODAY!!!
SinnerThree: Do I dare? Could it be…?
LobsterShorts: Big Willy! And not just him. There were about twenty of ‘em in the pod. And holy shit, babe, they were spectacular. I can’t even describe the experience. It was…beautiful. Like, witnessing these creatures that nobody knew existed just swim up to the boat. They circled us for hours, almost like they were as curious about us as we were about them. It left me breathless.
I wait for Luke to come back with something witty. Maybe tease me, or, if he’s feeling edgy, mock me about my sheer joy over seeing some whales.
He does none of those things.
SinnerThree: I’ve missed you.
My breath catches. Did I misread that? I blink a few times, but those three words remain the same. He’s missed me.
I’m shaking as I sit up on my bed. As much as I want to babble on and on about the whales, this is way more monumental.
LobsterShorts: I’ve missed you too.
No answer.
LobsterShorts: Can I see you when I get back?
SinnerThree: We’re in the same frat. You’ll see me all the time.
LobsterShorts: That’s not what I mean and you know it.
No answer.
LobsterShorts: Bailey?
No answer.
Frustration tightens my throat. Damn it. It’s always one step forward, two steps back with this man.
LobsterShorts: I know you’re still there. I know you’re reading this, and I know you’ll just run away again if I try to push the issue. So this is what’s going to happen, Luke Bailey. I get home in two weeks. I’ll be landing at JFK and heading straight for my folks’ place in Easthampton.
I draw a deep breath and ask myself if I’m an idiot. Is there a point to this, or am I chasing after someone who just isn’t into me? I desperately want to believe Luke feels the same way, but he refuses to communicate with me, so I can’t be certain about his feelings. I can’t be certain about anything.
LobsterShorts: Our annual Hayworth barbecue is the day after I return. July 22. This is your official invitation.
Still no answer, but I wasn’t expecting one. I can almost picture Luke at this moment, sitting at his desk at work, or maybe having lunch alone somewhere. His gorgeous features creased with anxiety, his teeth digging hard into his bottom lip as he contemplates every word I’m saying.
LobsterShorts: I miss you and I want to be with you. I want a relationship with you. And I’m no longer interested in hearing excuses. My family doesn’t care. The frat will get over themselves. Your hesitation has nothing to do with any of the excuses you gave me last month. It has everything to do with you being afraid. Of me, of trusting someone. Of loving someone. And I’m telling you, here and now, you don’t have to be afraid. But what you do need to do is decide. Decide if we’re worth the risk.
Although it kills me to type my next message, it needs to be said.
LobsterShorts: I’m going to give it until midnight. If you show, then that means you’re ready to give our relationship a chance. If you don’t, then…I’ll have no choice but to move on. I can’t pine over you forever.
I’m breathing hard as I finish my epic speech.
LobsterShorts: Come to Easthampton, Luke. Take the risk.
Our Superpower
Keaton
Like I’ve said before, the Hayworths know how to throw a party. It’s our super power. There’s a giant smoker on the beach. Caterers in paper hats hand out brisket sandwiches and spicy chicken legs. There’s rum punch and beer and music for our two hundred guests.
The annual barbecue is my favorite Hayworth party. Was my favorite one. I’ve ruined it for myself this year. I’ve spent the last hour standing here looking down the beach like an idiot, wondering if a certain dark-haired hottie is going to step off the tram my father hired to ferry people from the train station to our fete.
Luke isn’t here, though. I watch the tram drive away again, empty. It’s after eight o’clock already.
“Keaton,” Annika chides. “Stop it.”
I turn back to her with a sigh. “Sorry.”
“Eat one of these.” She thrusts a plate in my face filled with finger sandwiches. “They’re cucumber and crab salad.”
That does sound good. I shove one into my mouth and chew. It’s good to be back on land. It’s good to be on a pristine beach in the sunshine, surrounded by people who like me and aren’t afraid to say so.