Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Garters,” she informs as our eyes find one another’s once more. “And no. I went to the games, but never with someone. And never to the dance.”
“Why not?”
An impossible to ignore the sadness that slinks onto her shoulders. “No one ever asked.”
“You messin’ with me, baby?” Disbelief and outrage fuse together to the point I can barely keep my voice steady. “How’s that possible? How could anyone not wanna two-step with a PYT like you?”
“MJ reference acknowledged-”
“Thank you.”
“But to answer your question,” a small shrug shakes her whole frame, “no. I’m not messing with you. I wasn’t popular then. Or in college. Or really…ever. Guys have never fallen at my feet or pursued me – unless they were trying to get in good with or back at my brother – or really ever…made an effort to show interest in me for me, present company excluded.”
“As I should be.”
“My senior year I did think this guy in my French class was gonna ask me to go, but he actually asked out the girl behind me.” She tries not to let the sting be seen in her expression. “Turns out all the eye flirting was not at all meant for me, which made my brother ecstatic since he hated the dude anyway from his senior year. Football has always been a bigger deal in Texas than hockey and pretty sure that played a major role in his disgust.”
“You know I’m pretty sure the reason I’m slayin’ Spanish 1 is ‘cause of all the telenovelas we watch,” admits the teen at the same time he gestures to the bowl of gems beside Gilly. “Can we watch La Hermana Amorosa while we sling back za?” He accepts the object in tandem with stating, “’Cause real talk? GAASSSSSPPP at Noelle cheatin’ on Thiago with her best friends’, broskie bestie knowin’ she’s into him. It’s givin’ high sus’ in like new ways.”
The sound of the doorbell ringing provides me with a segue of a breather from his foreign language, I anxiously need, “Speakin’ of dinner…I bet that’s it.” Gilly prepares to stand prompting me to insist otherwise. “I got it, Slayer.” Her immediate gleam gets my heart pounding needlessly. “You jus’ keep an eye on Captain Counter Glue.”
“I ain’t spillin’ glue on the-” His self-interruption barely escapes my standing up. “Shiz!” Bronny scrambles to adjust the object again on a muttered, “Sorry, Gilly.”
“It’s okay. Half the fun is the mess you make,” are the last words I clearly hear enroute to the front door.
Warmly opening occurs the instant I arrive; however, seeing someone that isn’t the pizza person stuns me silent.
Not silent disco silent.
We’re talkin’ Simon & Garfunkel “The Sound of Silence” type of shit.
For some unknown, eternity feeling stretch of time, I simply stare at the individual staring at me.
Swallow the lump of trepidation in my throat.
Move my mouth yet can’t seem to make a single syllable.
Yet neither do they.
They merely stare back.
Twitch their brow, clearly attempting to process the sight in front of them.
Let their lips part and snap shut and part again with no noise escaping.
GumpWorsleygrantmeasave.
This shit feels like an unpredicted penalty shot during the playoffs right now.
I don’t know what’s gonna happen next.
“Jukeeeessss?” Gillian calls from the unseen. “Everything okay?”
Nope.
Definitely can’t say that.
Hell, I can’t say anything right now.
Won’t.
When she doesn’t receive a verbal retort, quick footsteps are promptly taken to discover why.
And the reasoning receives a sharp gasp prior to a whispered, “Mari…”
Her dark brows lift high on her cocoa-colored complexion.
“Um…” a hiccup escapes before anything else, “I…” the nervous tick that reveals she’s even thinking about lying reveals itself upon her completed approach. “We…” This time two bounce her frame to the point I slide an arm around her waist for unspoken support. Support that manages to soothe the tell long enough for her to sigh, “Yes.”
Coach’s wife slowly nods while remaining speechless for a moment longer.
This isn’t how I wanted him to find out.
I wanted us to tell him.
At the very least his sister.
His best friend.
Not his wife.
Which she will.
Couples can’t keep shit like this from each other.
Shouldn’t.
I’d damn sure never expect them to.
Or even ask.
“I don’t wanna do this wronggggggg!!!!” screeches my baby brother like a country themed Steven Tyler from the kitchen. “Gilllyyyy!”
She winces, presses her lips together in an effort to hide her frustration, and calls back, “Give me a sec!” The sound of the teen’s voice – to my surprise – shifts a smile onto Mari’s face that prompts my girlfriend to confess, “We’re making his first mum.”
Mari immediately tosses a hand over her heart. “Ohmygod, do you remember when your brother made me mine?”
“I remember giving him shit about using more glitter in his life than he ever did toothpaste,” she good naturedly snickers.
“Ughhhhh,” groans the woman that will someday be my sister-in-law, “why do guys think we need that much glitter? I looked like I was cos’ playing Tinkerbelle for weeks!”