Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
“An arcade.”
“What? How?”
She shrugged. “It looks fun. Wanna play?”
She was pointing at the two racing motorcycles. “Hell yes, I’ll play, and I’ll win. I don’t let people win, Tru, you know this, so prepare to get smoked.”
“Yeah, okay.” She waved me off. “Now give me money so I can get those token things.”
My heart exploded. Money had always been a weird topic for us because I had so much and she’d basically gotten bought as a charity. I’d always wanted to give her the world, and she’d always made me feel bad by rejecting it.
Did that mean I could buy her a new purse?
A car?
Okay, I was getting ahead of myself, but still.
I’d never handed my credit card over faster. “Let’s go add fifty on one of those game cards. Prepare to lose, Tru.”
“Prepare to eat shit, Van.”
She said my nickname.
She said it.
I almost tripped over my own feet.
And two hours later, I did, in fact, eat shit, but it wasn’t because I was sucking on purpose. It was because she called me Van.
And we both knew that meant a wall had come down between us.
“How many tickets do we have?” She smacked me on the chest for the eighty billionth time that night. “I’m feeling greedy.”
I held up our little receipt. “Nine hundred and eighty-seven.”
“Not bad.” She tapped her lips with her finger. “I mean, we can’t get any of the big stuff, so I say we go quantity over—”
“Quality.” I finished for her. “I like the way you think, Tru, and I’ve had my eye on one of those Chinese finger traps for a solid five minutes.”
“Not to be too overhyped,” she added. “Next to the slinky and fruit-flavored Tootsie Rolls.”
“The vanilla sends me every time.”
“It’s cherry for me.”
“There's a dirty joke there somewhere, but I’m too wiped out from dodging all the teenagers in here trying to cut in line.”
She scoffed and crossed her arms as we continued to wait in line for some five-year-old to pick out two more candies. “Justin was clearly asking for it.”
“I can’t believe you threatened a fourteen-year-old.”
“He cheated.” She pointed at me. “And then told me I threw like a girl, which is offensive to all girls everywhere. I mean, what does that even mean? It’s offensive. Hell yeah, I throw like a girl, and that little bitch saw it firsthand when I handed him his ass.”
“Dear God, I forgot how much tequila makes you feisty. I think we need more shots.” We made it to the front of the line. I handed over our joint ticket receipt and picked out my Chinese finger traps while she went for her slinky. Naturally, we added in some snap bracelets and some friendship bracelets along with some Laffy Taffy and finished off our little paper bag with Tootsie Rolls.
I handed her the paper bag. “Happy birthday, Tru.”
She held it up to me. “This was fun.”
It was more than fun.
It was one of the best nights of my life.
Dare I say better than a stupid sex bet? What the hell had I even been thinking? I wasn’t. I was too hurt to think. Not that the hurt had gone away or lessened, but it felt good to just be us without our pasts.
It was a nice utopia-like existence that wouldn’t last past tonight.
But maybe that was what we needed—a moment to see what would have happened had we been honest, had we not walked away from each other, had we been more mature.
Regret slapped me across the face as we walked out of the arcade.
I could have had years of this.
I could have fought harder.
I could have explained to her why I was upset instead of getting drunk and hurting her the way she hurt me.
I could have.
Should have.
And now? Can’t.
The rain had stopped.
And our Uber decided to arrive early. Yay, one star, you prick. I didn’t want the night to end but end it did as we both got in the car and shared our candy.
She was yawning and half asleep by the time we got back to the house. I told myself I was holding her hand because she was tired, but really, it was for me. I wanted to hold her hand all the way to the door because I knew the moment I dropped it, the closure we so desperately needed would end. The ceasefire wouldn’t even matter anymore. We were closing the door. Our fight against each other was gone. I apologized.
And now? Just roommates.
No more war.
No more arguing.
Just existing.
How sad.
We walked into the house in silence. Brady was already in bed. Dishes were in the sink, and the lights were turned low.
“Thank you.” Tru held up the bag. “For tonight.”
I nodded and leaned in. Technically, I still had half of a kiss left, so I chose to use it on her forehead, not trusting myself to touch her mouth again and try for more. It would take me a while to get her out of my head and heart.