Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Additional culpability causes me to adjust myself in my seat.
Fidget with my polo again.
Grab my beer and attempt to choke down the humiliation caught in the back of my throat.
This is fucking ridiculous.
I’ve never been this bad about hiding my feelings for Arley.
Why am I struggling so much tonight?
Is it because she’s ignoring me?
Is it because I’m worried, she’s pissed and didn’t know how to say it?
It’s not like we don’t fight.
We just…don’t do it often.
And it’s usually over stupid shit like who forgot to put a bag back in the trashcan – me – and why is the coffee table already so fucking sticky when we haven’t even had dinner yet – her.
Real shit?
Real emotional level shit?
That’s rare.
Maybe because we’ve never done that whole song and dance of pretending to be someone, we’re not so the other person we’re with will feel compelled to become more invested in us? Maybe because we let one another see the ugly shit like how insecure her condition makes her or how anxious my trauma makes me? Hell, I think the biggest fight we ever had was me deciding to take an assignment too close to Christmas a couple years back. She wanted us to keep up our tradition of making the long drive out to Ma’s small farmhouse for Nochebuena – aka Christmas Eve – and celebrate the same way we had since our first year together when I introduced her to the festivities. She immediately fell in love with the colors and the music and food, so much so that Ma always makes sure to have enough ponche navideño, tamales, and buñuelos for Arley to take home at the end of the night, after midnight mass and presents. Typically, in most households, it’s a large event filled with family and music and dancing but because of what happened to me shortly after my 5th birthday, it became just me and Ma. She would say the angels were with us, so we had more than enough company. She told Arley the same thing when I brought her yet swore, my woman already knew that since she was one in disguise. That was the year Ma confessed that she could worry less about me for the first time in a long time because she knew I was being protected. That same year, she promised Arley she was welcomed in her home at any time – with or without me. Possibly denying them both a custom that had become such an intricate part of their holiday celebrations had me receiving an earful in both ears and then doing whatever it took to guarantee my ass was on Ma’s doorstep before the clock struck midnight. And I was. I hadn’t showered. I hadn’t shaved. I hadn’t slept in almost fifty-two hours, but I was on her porch ready to escort the two of them to the service. Arley kept herself pressed to me for the rest of the night in relief. Gratitude. Ma even covered her up when she fell asleep on the couch in my arms a couple hours later. I swore to the saints, angels, and the big man upstairs himself in that very moment I would do whatever it took for the rest of my life to be the reason she smiled rather than frowned.
I was a goner long before that moment, but after it?
I knew exactly where the other half of my soul was.
Would always be.
“Wahl,” Lila gingerly calls out, drawing my attention away from the distance it had disappeared into. “I think it’s safe to say that nothing’s gonna happen here…” Her finger gestures to the empty space between us. “So, how about we drop the charade. The pressure. The fucks to give about possibly getting laid and just talk.” Seeing her eyes flood with kindness catches me by surprise. “You clearly need to talk to someone about this woman, and I’d bet the very expensive heels on my feet that Blu is of no help in that department.”
Chortles escape at the same time I lift my bottle to have another swig. “Not unless you consider singin’ to me ‘Do Your Nuts Hang Low’ on and off for twenty minutes during our drive home helpful.”
“Exactly.” She giggles, a sound that’s pleasant yet makes me miss Arley’s even more. “You need to talk, and I love a good love story – it’s the only shit Netflix even bothers recommending to me anymore – so really, this is a win, win scenario.”
More snickers slip free.
Lila’s fingers curl around her cocktail glass to lift it to her lips. “Why haven’t you told her how you feel?”
“I don’t wanna ruin what we’ve got.”
“Copout.”
Her bluntness receives an amused grunt. “Pardon?”
“That’s. A. Cop. Out.” Watching her head bounce side to side on every word encourages me to chuckle again. “I don’t want a copout. I want the truth. And we’re talking the real truth. The truth you can only tell a complete stranger because you know you’re probably never gonna see them again.”