Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 98226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
I picked up my book again, but I couldn’t focus. I read the same page three times before I conceded, shutting it altogether and deciding I should just get to bed early, too.
Just as I was turning out the lamp, my phone buzzed with a text…from Theo.
My heart lurched into my throat at the sight of his name on my phone.
I glanced at Joel, who was still sound asleep, and then unplugged my phone from the charger and settled into the sheets, sliding my thumb across the screen until the text opened.
How are you feeling? I didn’t see you all day.
Butterflies.
A stampede of furious, stir-crazy butterflies.
I bit my lip, heart thundering a little louder in my chest.
I’m okay. It was a weird day. How are you?
I would be better if I could have seen you on deck.
I pressed the phone into my chest, rolling my eyes up to the ceiling until they closed altogether. I stifled the little squeal threatening to break loose from my throat, and after a breath, I looked back at the screen just in time for another text to come through.
I hope I didn’t scare you last night.
I swallowed, replaying the scene for the one-hundredth time that day. Even in the darkness, I could picture his sterling eyes fixed on mine.
Not scared. Surprised, maybe.
Good surprise?
Joel stirred next to me, and I panicked, throwing the phone under the covers until he settled again. Guilt sank into my stomach, and when I lifted the phone again, I typed and erased, typed and erased until another text came through.
I have a terrible habit of making you uncomfortable, don’t I, Miss Dawn?
He sent the text with a smirky emoji, and I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t fight the smile blooming on my lips.
I have a terrible suspicion you like it.
Theo sent back a wink emoji, and then the little dots were bouncing again, letting me know he was typing.
Meet me tomorrow morning. I want to show you something.
I bit my lip, glancing at Joel with the pit growing deeper and darker in my stomach.
My phone vibrated again.
I won’t take no for an answer.
I swallowed, hating the way my body betrayed me, the way it came to life like those text messages were Dr. Frankenstein’s volts of electricity, and I was the monster he created.
Goodnight, Mr. Whitman.
Goodnight, Miss Dawn.
Joel was sick on our first date in college.
I had no idea, of course, because that was the way Joel was — if he was sick, life went on as normal. Looking back now, I should have noticed his persistent cough at the movie, and his watery eyes in the candlelight at the little pizza joint we went to, and how red his nose was when he first grabbed my hand as we walked back to my dorm room.
But the super cute guy who ran in the same circle of friends had asked me on a date. No way was I questioning any of it.
He didn’t tell me until almost a year into our relationship, which was the next time I saw him sick. And just like that first time, he insisted he was fine, that he could go to school and work and party just like he always did. Lying on this couch isn’t going to do me any good, he’d said, and I’d marveled at his strength, because when I was sick? All I wanted was to be doted on while I whined and curled up in a ball of blankets.
So, when I woke the next morning to the sound of us dropping anchor and Joel was still asleep next to me, I knew something was wrong.
I pressed the back of my hand to his forehead, his neck, shaking my head when I felt how hot his skin was. “You’re burning up,” I said.
Joel groaned. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.”
“I’ll be right back.”
I popped out of bed, pulling on a pair of shorts, a sports bra, and a tank top before I rushed upstairs. I made some tea, rummaged around in the crew galley until I found a stash of cold medicine, and then went back to find Joel trying to get dressed for work.
“You should rest,” I said, popping two of the daytime cold pills into my palm. “Here, take these.”
Joel shook his head, but took the medicine, anyway. He accepted the tea and sat on the edge of the bed, one shoe on, eyelids sagging, his hair a complete mess from tossing in his sleep. “I can’t rest. I have to work.”
Just then, there was a knock on our door.
I frowned, glancing at Joel before I hopped up to answer it, and then nearly stumbling back when I swung the door open and found Theo on the other side.
He was already dressed and ready for the day, a robin’s egg blue hugging the muscles of his arms. The top three buttons were popped, the neck hanging open just enough to see the light bit of hair that dusted his chest. He had a coffee in his hand, and he tilted it toward me with a grin.