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)
“You’re way too pretty to be wasted on a bus.” Annnddddd, the award for the most awkward human being on the planet goes to me.
Remi’s lips twitch. “Okay. Come in. And don’t run off this time. I spent an hour looking for you in the rain.”
“Jesus.” I shut my eyes tight. “I’m so sorry.” One shaky exhale is followed by another. “I don’t deserve this.”
“What don’t you deserve?”
“Your kindness.” I don’t mean to say that.
Remi steps closer. I can smell her now. She’s like roses. Literally. She smells like roses, which makes me think about how I was just telling Nanny that she should get some for her yard because they’re so beautiful, and I like them so much. “Don’t think that’s ever going to stop me,” she says. She steps past me, and I follow her into the house.
It’s much cooler in here than outside. Her parents aren’t home, or at least I don’t see them as she leads me to the bathroom. I stare at her in question, but she motions me to wait, so I do. Soon, she’s back with a fresh T-shirt and a brand new deodorant, which she pops the cap to show me it hasn’t been used. Yeah. As if I’m the most hygienic person around right now. I lift my arm automatically and sniff myself, and holy good god. Soaking through a shirt has a not-so-pleasant aroma to it, let me tell you that, and all the while, Remi was standing right by me, and she never said a thing.
“Okay, get changed. I’ll get you some water, and I’ll get my keys.”
“Your keys?”
“You’re in no shape to drive.” She passes me the shirt and deodorant, and our fingers brush, which sends a shower of sensations through me like it’s the first time I’ve ever been touched by a woman in my life. My throat closes up, and I feel like I’m losing my head here, all over the fact that it’s been a heck of a long time since someone bothered to take care of me. Other than Nanny, of course.
But that’s exactly what she does.
After I’ve changed, Remi gives me a bag for the deodorant, which I guess I get to keep—I’ll replace it for sure—and my old shirt. She then makes sure I have a cold glass of water and that I drink it.
“I think you’re courageous,” she tells me, assessing me as I drink. I nearly spit out the water. “Because whatever made you leave for so long must have been bad. You didn’t leave after Tina, but rather, you came back after her, so it had to have been even worse than that. I don’t even want to think about what’s worse than having her treat you the way she did. She was a blind, heartless, ruthless crazy twit, and that’s all I’ll say about it. Well, also that she was crazy because no one who had you and your beautiful heart should have ever thrown it away, and I’m sorry for your heartbreak because it’s awful, and I can’t imagine how much it hurts.” She stands on her tiptoes, her eyes all soft and shiny, and I’m frozen, water glass between us. She’s all roses and coral lips and ethereal eyes, and then she kisses me on the cheek so softly that it’s like a whisper. Friendly. Sisterly, almost. “It’s going to be okay. I think you’re wonderful, but you need to learn to believe it too. You can talk to me. I’m always here. Even in the middle of a stormy night. And your family? They still love you. They’ll forgive you for anything, even Kimmy, if you just ask.”
God help me. I want her lips to linger there, her breath warm on my cheek, the world freezing to a most unbelievably wonderful halt. I want to turn my face and let those rose petal-soft lips of hers brush over mine. I’d like her to do something daring and unexpected. Like bring her lips to my earlobe and maybe even nibble a little.
And now, fuck, I’m hard as a rock.
I’m so thankful when she steps back because I can then set the water glass down on the table in the entranceway under the big round mirror that her mom probably chose, next to a pile of old flyers and mail. I thrust my hands into my pockets again, which seems to be my magic charm as of late. She’s already turning around while I do my handsy crotch-shielding trick, and I follow in her rose-scented wake, my heart feeling like it’s going to burst out of my chest.
Remi is sweet, fresh air. She’s the first breath that I’m filling my lungs with after coming out of hibernation in some cold, dank cave. My sister would probably quite like that image and say it’s apt, but it also feels like the truth. Remi is hope. How many days and nights, months and years has it been since I truly believed in that word?