Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Me: Can we talk about this later?
Gianna: I don’t know why we can’t talk about it right now.
Me: Look around.
Gianna: Done. I see Brooks. That tells me this conversation is not the first semi-inappropriate text exchange that’s ever happened from these pews.
Audrey: True.
Me: It’s a long story. We don’t have time to go over it all.
Gianna: I HAVE TIME. I don’t understand half of what the pastor says to begin with.
I roll my eyes, swiping out of the text thread when my phone vibrates again. This time, there’s a new text from an unknown number.
My foot taps the floor. Astrid places her hand on my thigh to still it. She gives it a gentle pat once I stop moving, then returns her hand to her lap.
I stare at the text on the screen, wondering how he got my number—by nine in the morning, at that.
Unknown: Can we talk?
Me: Depends on who this is.
I already know who it is, but I’ve made wrong assumptions before. Like last night.
Unknown: It’s Jory.
I drag in a lungful of air and blow it out slowly, saving his name in my phone.
I don’t want to talk to him. I mean, I’ll have to talk to him at some point. I’ll probably even want to talk to him eventually. But not when my head feels like nails are being driven into it, and not when I haven’t had coffee, and definitely not when I haven’t been able to wrap my head around how I feel about last night. About … us. I mean, there isn’t an “us,” per se, but his words keep rolling through my mind.
“You deserve better than this. What kind of man would I be if I had sex with you, in a public bathroom, after you’ve been drinking? I let this go too far tonight, and I’m sorry. It’s so easy to get carried away when I’m around you because, I mean, just look at you. But I would be a total asshole to do this.”
So, yeah, there isn’t an us, exactly, but those words don’t match that conclusion.
Gianna staring holes into my back doesn’t help, either.
“This morning, we’re opening our Bibles to Proverbs, chapter fourteen, verse twenty-nine. It reads, ‘Whoever is patient has great understanding, but one who is quick-tempered displays folly.’ Let’s read that one more time.”
I stare at the pastor. You’ve got to be kidding me.
I swipe back to the group chat.
Astrid: See, Gianna? God’s talking to you. Have some patience.
Gianna: You’re hilarious.
I go back to Jory’s text and stare at it before typing out a response.
Me: I can’t really talk right now. I’m in church.
Jory: Okay. But can we talk later? I don’t really know how things ended last night, and I want to be sure we’re still good.
I roll my eyes at his words but smile anyway.
Of course, he wants to make sure we’re still good. That’s half my problem with this guy. He’s almost too damn good.
If I didn’t know that there’s a bad boy somewhere inside that delicious body—and I’m never wrong— then I might blow him off. But the way he handled Jasper last night gives me hope. I might be down, but I’m not out.
Me: I have to go to my sister’s this afternoon and do some wedding planning for Audrey. Kinda busy.
Jory: I’ve never planned a wedding, but it can’t possibly take the fifteen hours left in the day, can it?
Me: You’d be surprised at how long I can make things last. Of course, you’ll never find out for yourself. But that’s on you.
Jory:
I smile at the screen as we fall back into our normal rhythm. Thank God.
My fingers fly against the keys as I realize that, unless he’s left the house today, he probably doesn’t know that the town is talking about us.
Me: Apparently, we’re the talk of the town.
Jory: Already?
Me: My sister heard at the gas station about the little introduction, for a lack of a better word, between you and Jasper. And Gianna heard that we’re dating. So, that’s fun.
Jory: Holy shit.
Me: I warned you that word travels fast in a small town.
Jory: You weren’t kidding. Wow.
Jory: What did you say?
I bite my lip to keep from giggling as I respond.
Me: That we dated for about five minutes and then realized that we weren’t on the same page sexually.
Jory: Stop it.
Me:
Jory: You aren’t funny. I’ve imagined about a thousand different ways that last night could’ve ended, and at this point, I prefer any of them to what actually happened.
“So, wisdom, you see, is found in that crack,” Pastor Reed says, catching my attention. I look up to see him watching me. “It’s nestled down in the space between feeling an emotion and acting on it.”
Oof. He holds my gaze and then looks away. I have to wonder if the pastor has already heard the gossip, too, because this message feels very pointed.