Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
“Come on, Brayden,” I whine. “Is that really necessary?”
“Sure is. You’re my girl. I want to find out everything there is to know about you.”
“I’m your fake girl,” I snap, in case he’s in need of a reality check. The words serve as a reminder for not only him but myself as well. “Emphasis on the fake. There’s no reason to delve any deeper than you already have.”
Instead of continuing in the same vein, he changes the subject. “Would you mind putting your address into my phone?”
He rattles off the password. Left with no other choice, I plug in my parents’ address. A few minutes later, we’re turning onto the highway and heading north. Since the drive should only take roughly half an hour, it’ll be a quick trip.
All through high school, I’d imagined going far away for college. After Peter died, all that changed. There was no way I could move halfway around the country. So, I threw my application in at Western and spoke with Coach Adams about playing soccer. All in all, it’s been a good experience. If I hadn’t attended Western, I wouldn’t have met Demi.
“You’re not very far from school. Do you get home often?” he asks.
I blink back to the present. “Umm, yeah. Usually about once a week.”
With his gaze focused on the ribbon of road beyond the windshield, he nods. “You must be close to your family.”
My voice softens. “Yeah, I am.”
We were always a tight knit group, but the death of my brother made us even more so. Once you experience that kind of gut-wrenching loss, it makes you hold onto the people you love with both hands and never let go. Every time I say goodbye and walk out the door, a lump settles in the pit of my belly, knowing that it could be the last time I see one of them. It sucks. Worse than that, there’s no way to banish the internal thoughts or ignore them. They’ve taken root deep in my psyche.
“How about you?” I ask.
Although, given that Brayden went through a similar experience, my guess is that he is. It’s a shit thing to have in common. And yet, I feel inexplicably closer to him because of it. He’s one of the few people that I didn’t meet in a support group who understands how that kind of grief can break you.
“Yup. Unlike you, I only have one sister. Elle. You met her at the party.”
“Ahh, yes,” I say lightly, “the infamous party where I discovered I was in a committed relationship. Who could forget that?”
He chuckles. “Certainly not me. You must thank your lucky stars every night that we found our way to one another. Fake boyfriend or not, I’m a real catch.”
I snort. Could this guy be more full of himself?
“All you’ve done, believe it or not, is complicate my life.” I shake my head and mutter, “Thank my lucky stars...Give me a break.”
He flashes me a charming smile that has undoubtedly dropped hundreds of panties on this campus alone. “Aww, sugar-booger, don’t be that way.”
Oh no, he didn’t.
My eyes widen as I swing toward him in horror. “Don’t ever call me that again.”
My reaction has his smile morphing into a full-on grin. “What’s wrong?” There’s a beat of silence. “You don’t like my pet name for you?”
“God, no.” I shudder for good measure.
He presses his lips together for a contemplative moment. “How about snookums?”
Is he seriously demented? “Forget it.”
“Muffin?” he asks with raised brows.
“No,” I snap.
“Sexy pants?”
“Really?” I twist in the seat until I can face him.
“Sure.” He shrugs. “Why not?”
“I can think of about twenty reasons off the top of my head. How about we just forget the cutesy names for the time being?” And when I say the time being, I mean forever.
“Come on, that’s part of the fun of being a couple.” There’s a pause before he tacks on, “Sugar lips.”
“You’re seriously killing me right now.”
His shoulders shake with mirth. “All right, pudding, I’ll stop. Turns out my girl doesn’t like pet names. Who knew?”
It’s almost a relief when we pull up in front of my house. Since I’m dreading this party, that’s really saying something.
Brayden looks past me to the two-story brick residence with its white columns and matching red brick walkway that cuts through the front lawn. Leafy green hedges hug the front of the structure, giving it an idyllic look. There’s always a sense of peace that fills me when I return home.
Except for this time.
I glance at him as he continues to quietly stare. “Having second thoughts?” Because it’s much too late to do anything about it now. We’ve probably been spotted from the windows and the alarms have been sounded.
“Nope,” he says, sounding strangely like he means it. “I’m looking forward to meeting everyone.”
A puff of air escapes from me. “It’s doubtful you’ll feel that way in twenty minutes,” I mutter. “If they’re in rare form, fifteen.”