Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 91434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Hey,” I greet, holding up my hand and seeing Autumn smile at me as Brock opens the back door of Waylon’s truck. “How is everyone doing?” I ask, getting into the truck and scooting to the middle of the seat.
“Good,” Autumn answers with a smile over her shoulder. I can see she’s been crying, but I don’t ask her about it. We make eye contact, but she just shakes her head and looks over at Waylon. I can see this is another fight the two of them have had. The two of them spend ninety-five percent of their relationship fighting. The other five percent is Autumn tolerating what a dick Waylon is. If it wasn’t for Autumn, I don’t know if any of us would be friends with him.
“Hey,” Brock says, slapping Waylon on the shoulder, “how are you doing?”
“Could be better,” he replies, pulling away from the curb and almost peeling out of the parking lot. I put my hand on Brock’s knee and squeeze it. I look over at him and raise my eyebrows, sharing with him that we should have just stayed home and had pizza.
The windows are down, so my hair flies all around my face as I turn to look out the window. The green trees line both sides of the road as we make our way over to pick up Charlie and Jennifer.
No one even tries to make any conversation as we pull up to their house. The two of them recently moved in together. “I am going to go in and pee,” Autumn announces from the front seat of the truck.
“Jesus, again?” Waylon glares over at her, and the look isn’t a friendly one. Instead, he’s looking at her like he hates her. “You pee every ten seconds,” he says, honking the horn to let Jennifer and Charlie know we are here.
I lean over, putting my hand on Brock’s leg. His arm’s across the back seat, around my shoulders. “If you ever looked at me like that,” I whisper into his ear, “I would stab your big toe with a fork.”
He chuckles and kisses the side of my head. “Why a fork?”
“It has more entry wounds.” I look up at him as the passenger door closes. “So it means you’ll be in more pain, which would make me the happiest.”
The front door opens, and Autumn runs into the house. “She gets on my last nerve sometimes,” Waylon mumbles, and I bite my tongue to tell him she’s not the one who gets on our last nerve. I think Brock knows I’m about to say something because he picks up the hand that is on his knee and brings it to his lips and squeezes it.
The front door opens, and a second later, Jennifer is coming out, wearing white jeans and a turquoise top, her hair flying with the light wind. “Hey,” she says, opening the door closest to me, and I squish over to Brock. She gets in the truck and leans over to kiss my cheek. “How are you?” she asks with a smile on her face before looking over at Brock and saying hello. She then turns and says hello to Waylon, who just mumbles while he texts something on his phone before tossing it to the side. He puts his hand in a fist and pushes the steering wheel so the horn honks again.
This time, the front door opens, and Autumn walks out in front of Charlie, who follows her to the truck. “Took you long enough,” Waylon snaps when Autumn opens the passenger door and then looks over at Charlie.
“You sit up front.” Autumn tries to hide she’s pissed off at him and his words, but she fails miserably as she walks to the back door and opens it, sliding in and slamming the door, not giving Charlie an option. The four of us squish into the back seat. Jennifer moves closer to me, and I move closer to Brock, my ass practically in his lap. His arms wrap around my waist to make sure I don’t fly anywhere.
“Hey.” Charlie gets in the front seat, greeting us and trying to avoid the awkwardness of how quiet the truck is. He looks over at Brock, sharing a look. “How’s everyone doing?” Charlie barely has his seat belt on before Waylon drives off, making Brock shake his head. “Good times,” he says, looking at Jennifer, the two of them sharing an inside look. My eyes go to Autumn. She’s looking out the window and not talking to them. Her finger pulls the side of her eye to stop the tear from coming out. I shake my head and look at Brock, who just shakes his head, telling me not to.
We head over to Waylon’s family’s hunting cabin some fifteen minutes on the outskirts of town. The log cabin is painted red, with a wraparound porch and four rocking chairs. We’ve been hanging around at the cabin since we were all sixteen, going up there with a couple of cases of beer that Waylon would get using his older brother, Winston, to buy it for us. We all went to high school together, all except Charlie, who just moved to town a couple of years ago.