Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 95340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Brodie: lol
Lizzy: Are we walking or driving ’cause I have a car?
Brodie: Walk? If you’re up for it. It’s still nice outside.
Not that I would know if it’s still nice. I haven’t been out since I walked home.
Lizzy: Sounds good. Meet you out front in 10??
Brodie: 10 minutes?
Lizzy: Yeah, 10 minutes you goof
I’m such an idiot.
Seriously, why is she bothering with me.
And when she finds out I have zero experience with girls, she’s going to freak out.
Brodie: Cool
I peel the blue T-shirt off and discard it in a pile, on top of the bro tank, and go back to my closet. Blue, blue, gray, gray, red, white.
Hoodie?
T-shirt and a hoodie?
I pull down a navy athletic shirt, one that my mom got me—it’s not as casual as a T-shirt but not as dressy as a collared shirt, and slide a new hoodie off its hanger.
The hoodie is navy blue too.
I eyeball my shorts in the mirror. They’re black, and if I’ve heard my mom bitch at my dad a hundred times for wearing black and navy together, I’ve heard her a thousand.
The shorts come off, and I take out a pair of jeans.
I root around and find a pair of sneakers that aren’t as scuffed, then stand to inspect myself in the mirror.
I look…
Like I’m going to class.
But I’ve spent eight minutes fucking around and have no time to change, so I grab my wallet off the desk, stuffing it into my back pocket along with my phone.
Lizzy is in the yard before I am, standing under the tree that separates the lot lines and I’m pleased to see she’s also wearing a sweatshirt. Hers doesn’t have a hood, but it’s casual, just like I am, and I instantly feel more mellow.
Lavender crewneck. White shorts.
Sandals.
Long, dark hair down around her shoulders.
She’s like a fresh freaking daisy.
“Hey.”
I’m shocked when she goes on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on my cheek before we start walking toward downtown. The nearest ice cream shop is only two blocks away.
We fall into step.
I’m hyper aware of her, keeping my hands in my pockets because I have no idea what to do with them. It seems too soon to take her hand even though we spent a good fifteen minutes going hot and heavy in her closet.
Damn, that kiss was hot.
If I hadn’t asked her on this date, I’d definitely be jerking off at least more than once in the comfort of my own bedroom.
“My room looks so cute,” she tells me, glancing up with a big smile. “It’s dry, so I was able to put everything back.”
Glowing skin.
No makeup.
I swallow, looking away, looking this way and that, watching for trouble in the dark.
“Does it? I’ll have to come see it.”
“You should.” Lizzy pauses for a few heartbeats, probably thinking of something new to say. “Did you have dinner?”
I nod. “Ate a sandwich. It wasn’t very exciting.” Then. “Did you?”
I have to admit I’m pretty fucking proud of myself for remembering my manners and not just freezing her out like I would with my friends because small talk is not my forte.
We stop at the corner and wait until a few cars pass before stepping off the curb and crossing the street.
Walk another hundred feet and arrive at our destination, the diner-style ice cream parlor with its glowing, neon OPEN sign calling us in like a beacon.
I pull the door open for Lizzy, glancing down at her backside as she passes, and she trails her hand across my forearm in the process with a backward glance over her shoulder.
Is she flirting?
Together, we stare into the freezer at the flavors.
“What are you thinking you’re going to get?” she asks. “I love chocolate, so I might do Mackinac Island Fudge.” Her nose is nearly pressed to the glass as she debates. “Or Truffle Brownie Delight?”
She hums.
“I like mint chocolate chip,” I confess. “But maybe I’ll do something different.”
Lizzy hums again, still staring into the freezer full of ice cream buckets.
Her finger presses against the glass. “Have you ever had Blue Moon?”
“Probably when I was little.”
She pulls a face. “Too sweet.”
I laugh. “That’s too sweet, but you’ll eat Truffle Brownie Delight? That’s nothing but chocolate!”
“I love chocolate.” She shrugs adorably, being cute with her button nose and freckles and pouty lips that she’s got dipped in gloss.
“Okay, I know what I want to eat—Peanut Butter Cup.”
Lizzy rubs her tummy. “Yum. Are you going to share with me?”
“Yes, I’m going to share with you.”
We each get one scoop in a waffle cone—I pay—and decide to eat while we walk and not sit at a table, shuffling side-by-side down the street, walking past shops and restaurants that are mostly all closed.
Still, it’s a relaxing, companionable silence.
We hang a left at the corner and make our way back to our block, the street lamps casting a low glow on the sidewalk; shadows of trees and street signs line the way.