Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
The thing about the comment on the thing feels so true. It hits so close to home right now. But just one glimpse and the nerves, fuzz in my mouth, bitter taste at the back of my tongue, and pounding in my head, chest, and gut, fade. All of it. Just one glimpse of Remi coming through the open door, and I’m consumed. Remi is wearing a little yellow cotton dress with a bow on the front and a lightweight black sweater, and as she walks to the car, her yellow flip-flops slap the ground.
All the energy is sucked out of the vehicle and world as I tumble out—out of everywhere at once. Her hair is bouncing in a high, flirty ponytail. She’s wearing coral lipstick, and her lashes are thicker and darker, longer than ever over a sea, sky, and vast expanse of blue. All I know right now, hanging half out of the driver’s side door, is that I’m alive.
I’m alive, and I feel like I’m doing more than sleepwalking my way through a list of regrets that has somehow turned into a nightmare that’s my life. Right now, I’m awake. Every nerve ending is awake. My body is jolted into screaming awareness. Awake.
I scramble out of the car, leaving the door half-open, and walk the rest of the way up to meet her. I should have brought flowers or something. A plant? A container of gravy for her as a thank you for letting Nanny rope her into this against her will? Should I fall to my knees in apology and beg her forgiveness for dragging her down into this mess with me when all she deserves is to shine bright like that sunny yellow dress she has on?
“I’m so sorry about this.” Great. I’m basically a flashing neon sign that refused to give the proper warning signals to the wreckage ahead because it’s wrecked too. Obviously, it’s the wrong thing to say because Remi can’t hide the way her face falls, no matter how she struggles to do it.
She does shrug, though, making an effort. “You’re not the one who sold her soul for a container of liver gravy.” She means it as a joke, but her voice has an edge of hurt to it.
God, we have to have this out before I go to my mom’s because it’s going to be even worse there. I have no idea what I was thinking, getting back into this. Why didn’t I just tell Nanny no? Remi doesn’t deserve this. Everything I touch crumbles to dust. She should stay far away.
Her eyes lock with mine, and they’re so bright and clear that it’s like staring straight into a sun-dappled oasis. She crosses her arms right there in the middle of the cracked concrete driveway with the weeds growing up through the broken cement. “I’m not going until you tell me why,” she says slowly, annunciating every word for me.
“Why what?” My brain has checked out. It’s so obvious. It checked out at the sight of all that beauty in front of me, and it’s not coming back anytime soon.
“Why you kissed me! Why you were at my house that night.” Her head tilts up stubbornly. “Why you really came back here at all. What really happened? Why you never came back before that. Why you agreed to take me on a date if you didn’t really want to. Why you’re doing any of this. Because, to me, it just seems like you want to take me with you because I’ll be a useful distraction.”
I can’t hide my shock. I’ve gotten really good at pretending that everything is fine. That I’m fine, but everything is not fine, and there’s no hiding it now. Remi is mad. I’m starting to realize that it’s the spitting fire kind of mad, though, on her, it looks sweeter, gentler. It’s there in the locked jaw, the hard fire burning in her irises, the slight flare of her nostrils, and the hurt splashed all over her face.
I’ve thoroughly read the situation wrong. I don’t know what to say. “I’m sorry I kissed you.” Her lips thin out. Alright, also the wrong thing. Wrong, wrong, wrong. “I’m a mess.” I’m still grasping at fucking straws, and I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean as it’s so archaic. “I went for a walk to clear my head because I couldn’t sleep, and it turned into a jog, which turned into me finding myself at your house. You hugged me before, and you were kind to me. You aren’t suspicious of me. That hug you gave me didn’t demand anything else in return. I didn’t mean to kiss you. It just happened. But it was a mistake. This whole thing is a mistake.”
Remi’s eyes narrow further. She draws her arms around herself and gives me a classic Kimmy staredown that could wither a person on the spot. And I do wither. Rather inelegantly and quickly. “Have a good night, Van,” she says before she turns around and her flip-flops smack, smack, smack their way back up the driveway toward her house.