Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
I glanced at the ultrasound picture beside my bed. “Brushing and flossing every day.”
She laughed. “You know that’s not what I meant, but I’m glad to hear you’re taking care of your teeth. We didn’t spend all that money on braces for you not to take care of them.”
I barely registered her words because my heart ached too much, and my mind was numb from the shock.
“Tell Dad I love him.”
“I will, hun. Talk to you next week.”
I nodded without so much as a mumbled “goodbye” before hanging up the phone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
GUNS N’ ROSES, “SWEET CHILD O’ MINE”
Ben
Laurel laughed at everything I said. I couldn’t hear her, but I felt her. She was growing on me, not like Gabby, but enough to make me leave my room for a trip to McDonald’s or the bowling alley. And my relationship with her seemed to pacify my parents and keep them off my back.
I had a job.
I had a friend.
No one seemed to care that I still didn’t feel like I had much of a purpose in life.
If you weren’t so young, I’d invite you to my apartment.
Laurel slid me the note after I finished wadding up my wrapper and stuffed it into the bag.
When I eyed her with a raised eyebrow, she returned a flirty grin while blushing. She was pretty enough. Curly, blond hair and blue eyes. She was shorter than me, maybe even shorter than Gabby, but she had huge breasts.
“You’re twenty-three, not forty-three,” I said, not because I wanted to go to her apartment. I was just stating a fact: She wasn’t that much older than me.
She bit her lip and batted her long eyelashes.
Was she cute? Yes. Did I like her big boobs? Sure. Had I thought about having sex with her? Of course. Was I going to? Not likely.
She signed something and then wrote.
Come to my apartment.
If I went there, we were going to have sex. I wasn’t stupid. And after the fact, I would hate myself because I took Gabby’s virginity, and I had a stack of unopened letters from her in my room. I felt an odd responsibility to let Gabby know I was moving on before actually moving on. And I pitied whoever came after Gabby, who would always feel like the only girl for me.
Laurel wasn’t really me “moving on,” she was just a good time. I enjoyed hanging out with her. And if we had sex, I felt certain I wouldn’t be taking her virginity, and she wouldn’t expect it to mean anything.
“Maybe another time,” I said.
Laurel nodded. She was cool like that.
We dumped our garbage on the way out, and she hugged me before waving goodbye and getting into her beige Toyota Corolla.
As soon as I arrived home, I headed straight to my room—my spotless room. I inspected it for a few seconds, not sure how I felt about someone (probably my mom) invading my space. All of my Legos were in bins. My bed was made. The trash was empty instead of overflowing. And my desk was cleared, except for the journal and pen from Gabby.
My parents had been on my case to clean my room, clearly my mom was tired of waiting.
I turned when someone tapped my shoulder. Tillie scowled at me.
“What?”
She handed me a note. Whatever she had to say was premeditated and scripted before I got home.
I cleaned your room.
I nodded. “I didn’t ask you to, so if you’re waiting for a thank-you, you’ll be waiting for a long time.”
She handed me a second notecard.
I found a pile of letters from Gabby.
I shook my head and shrugged. “So?”
You never opened them.
Again, I shrugged.
Tillie averted her gaze for a few seconds while worry lines etched along her brow.
She handed me another notecard.
I read them.
I frowned. “Stay out of my stuff.”
She nodded toward my nightstand, where the letters were neatly stacked.
You’re an asshole.
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks. I’m aware. Stay out of my business.”
Tillie smacked the notecard into my chest with a punch, and her lips moved. I didn’t understand her words, but I read the anger in her expression, the emotions in her eyes. I didn’t open Gabby’s letters. So what? Tillie had no idea how much just receiving them hurt me. I didn’t have the strength to read them. And Gabby deserved a man who wasn’t weak like me.
Tillie had one notecard left, and I plucked it from her hand before she willingly gave it to me. Then, I shoved her out of my room and shut the door.
If you don’t read them, I’m telling Mom what’s inside.
Sex.
Gabby must have mentioned we had sex. Did I want my mom reading “how could you treat me that way after taking my virginity” letters? No. But Gabby was angry, and rightfully so. I stared at the letters. Her words would cut deeply because I loved her and hated myself.