Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Avril’s house reflects her personality. Modern, sleek lines and minimalist design. Built of brown stucco and stacked stone, it looks like someone laid three levels of different-sized boxes on top of one another. Her landscaping is almost “barren” with her front yard comprised of brown gravel and a few cacti. The only nod to any real color is her swimming pool in the back, which she religiously swims in morning and night for exercise.
Given the simplicity of design, it really stands out that there are three large suitcases on the front porch, several boxes on the concrete walkway leading from the driveway to the front door, and a pile of clothing dumped near a large agave plant off to the side of the front porch.
“What the fuck?” I hear Andrew say as I step out of my car. His eyes sweep the front yard for a moment before they narrow determinedly on the front door. He pushes past me. Before he can even reach the front porch, the door opens and Avril comes out, carrying another large box through.
She sees Andrew immediately and comes to an abrupt halt.
And then she sways backward slightly, seemingly corrects herself, only to sway forward a bit. Her eyes look glassy and bloodshot. The thick crop of blond bangs that normally come down to her eyebrows is slicked back with sweat, the rest of her hair pulled into a lopsided ponytail.
“What are you two doing here?” she asks, and the aggressiveness in her tone doesn’t hide the slightest of slurs.
“Are you drunk?” Andrew returns, his face aghast at what he sees. Neither of us can remember the last time we’d seen Avril drink to excess. Was it college?
“Unfortunately, I’m sobering up,” she replies dryly and drops the box on the front porch. She then turns around and walks back inside.
Andrew and I quickly follow her in. Avril heads straight to a wet bar that separates the kitchen and living room in the open-space design. She starts pulling glasses out from underneath—wineglasses, martini glasses, beer mugs—and drops them unceremoniously into a box on the floor. Each one shatters as it meets gravity.
“What the hell is going on?” Andrew practically growls as he goes to Avril. He catches her wrist before she can toss another glass into the box.
Even through the glaze in her eyes, I can see a tinge of fire starting to flicker. Still, her voice is somewhat controlled as she says, “I’m cleaning out some stuff.”
“Looks like it is most of Jamie’s stuff you’re cleaning out,” I observe as I stroll over to the box on the floor and look inside at the shattered glass. It’s Jamie’s personal bar set he brought when he moved in with Avril almost two years ago. He likes to entertain and have all his friends over whenever possible.
“Pretty much,” she says with a snicker that in no way sounds amused, but rather bitter. She reaches for another glass, but Andrew deftly takes it from her hand. After sitting it on the bar, he grabs onto her elbow and steers her into the living room. Right to the couch where he gives her a tiny push on her chest to make her fall onto the cushion. Avril immediately slumps back with a sigh, and that tells me she has no fight in her.
I move to stand on the other side of the coffee table opposite of her while Andrew sits down beside her. He lays a hand on her shoulder and squeezes. “Talk to us, Av. What’s going on?”
Her head drops, which conceals her eyes, and she sighs. Twirling her fingers around one another while holding her hands on her lap, she says, “I caught Jamie cheating on me last night.”
“Fucking prick,” I mutter as I round the coffee table to sit on the edge, my knees just inches from Avril’s.
Andrew’s face goes red with fury. “How did you find out?”
Avril raises her face, and her gaze looks a little sharper. “I wasn’t due in from my trip to San Diego until today, but I managed to get out early. When I got in last night, he was right there in our bed.”
“Cunt,” I mutter, because prick is too nice.
“He was with a girl who couldn’t have been more than twenty-one if she was even that old,” Avril says softly, gaze dropping back down. “All smooth skin and bendable limbs.”
“I’ll kill him,” Andrew vows, his hand going from Avril’s shoulder to curve around the back of her neck.
He pulls her into his side, and she capitulates. I envy the physical affection Andrew and Avril have always been able to show each other over the years a little bit. It’s totally platonic, but there’s something intimate about it. It’s caused some sparks of jealousy that he has just a slightly better connection with her than I do in that respect, but I try not to let it bother me too much. I’m simply incapable of that type of outward affection, although I love Avril deeply. Just as I love Andrew.