Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69424 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69424 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
I walked around the hood just as he started the old truck up.
Maybe that was where I went wrong.
I should’ve gotten an older truck.
Maybe one with less computer shit that could mess up. Then again, I had no clue if it was the electronics causing the issue. Maybe I should just throw the entire truck away and start over…
He pulled out of the parking lot and drove right past my truck.
Neither one of us said anything about it as he drove.
I’d call someone. But not today.
Maybe the day after tomorrow when there wasn’t a ton of shit going on.
“Where are you going?” I asked when he took a left instead of the right that would take him to the main road out of the small town.
“I’m fucking starving,” he admitted. “We’re going to whatever is open.”
I knew of at least four places that were open. Mostly because I’d planned on skipping out on the Truth Teller Christmas party early and hitting up several of the open places for a smorgasbord of food to be eaten in my bed late into the night.
Yet, now, I felt like that wasn’t going to be an option for me.
If I had to get a ride to the place, I’d have to get a ride back. And that meant that I couldn’t ask for one until someone was ready to go.
And I really only felt comfortable asking four people max. My sister. My brother-in-law. My younger brother. Or the man sitting beside me.
I pointed at a Whataburger and said, “They are.”
He pulled in and parked the truck.
“Any way you could go in and get us food? I’ll pay.”
I refrained from pointing out that he could’ve just as easily gone through the drive-through.
I unbuckled my seat belt and held out my hand. “Sure.”
He handed over a couple of twenties and said, “Order me whatever you’re having.”
I took him at his word and got him the triple cheeseburger, large fries, and biggest Dr. Pepper that they offered. I got the same for myself. Then I added a cinnamon melt thing that looked to die for.
One for both of us.
When I got out to the truck I had over ten pounds of food in my hands.
He eyed me with surprise when I took my seat and handed him the bag.
“Jesus,” he said. “What’s in here?”
I grinned as I reached for the burger at the bottom of my bag and said, “Lots of meat.”
He watched as I unwrapped my burger, unhinged my jaw, and took a bite.
“I’m not quite sure how you just managed that,” he said as he unwrapped his own burger.
He eyed it for a second before saying, “How’d you know what to order?”
“I’ve been eating your DoorDash for a week. I know that you don’t like lettuce and onions. Tomatoes are okay, which seems weird because I feel like those are grosser than onions. Plus, on your sandwich last week that you ordered, you got extra mustard. And, since I have a brain, I was able to use deductive reasoning to figure out what to put on your burger. You’re welcome.”
I took another bite of my burger, groaning. “Though,” I said through my chews, “I do believe that you massacre a burger by putting anything but meat and cheese on it.”
“Meat and cheese, eh?” he asked as he took a large bite—without, might I add, unhinging his jaw. “I sometimes do that, too.”
We ate in companionable silence, and only when I was done and snacking on my fries did he say, “I truly didn’t think you had it in you. You’re as skinny as a rail, and I always thought you just ate like a baby bird.”
“I only eat like that when I’m around large parties because I have social anxiety. If I eat a lot, I’m tempted to throw it up,” I muttered, licking the salt off the fry before I dipped it into my spicy ketchup and popped it into my mouth. “I feel like everyone judges the hell out of me when I’m at one.”
He looked over at me. “At least you’re not burned and you don’t have strangers also looking at you.”
I shrugged. “Honestly, I’d almost rather something like that. Then at least I’m not wondering what it is they’re staring at. I have an overactive imagination, and I overthink everything. You could be staring at me across the room, and all my mind is thinking is ‘she shouldn’t be here. She doesn’t fit. She is uglier than her sister. She should’ve skipped this one and done everyone a favor.’”
“I think you think a lot more highly of yourself than you should,” Jasper drawled as he took another big bite of his burger before saying, “Honestly, I’d bet no one thinks about you at all.”
I wasn’t sure how to feel about his comment.