Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
I dropped her to the ground. She walked ahead of me, cutting through the clearing, a lone shadow in the dark. The whole scene was reminiscent of one of those 1980s horror films I used to watch with Dad. “Survivalist,” I muttered under my breath, then followed her.
She took a seat on the edge of the pier, dangling her feet over the water. I stopped for a second to watch her. God, did she look perfect under those stars. Like something too pure for me. Something I would taint. That touch of innocence that seemed to cling to her was what had me falling for her back in high school. She was the only pure thing in that shithole town. The only pure thing in my life.
I rested the picture against one of the rotting posts, then sat beside her.
Water lapped against the pier, almost in rhythm with the croak of frogs. I had to admit, there was a sense of serenity about it. Familiarity. Growing up, all I’d wanted to do was get the hell out of Dayton, the hell out of the South, but moments like this made me appreciate it.
“When we first broke up, whenever I went home, I’d go to the creek and The Lookout. I don’t know if I was hoping you’d be there, too—hoping to see me.”
The first time I’d gone since we’d split up was when I took her last weekend. Those were our places, and as masochistic as I could be, I didn’t want to hurt myself that way. “I couldn’t bring myself to go without you.”
“Never?”
“Not until last weekend.”
Jade swung her feet over the water. “I think I kept going because I was chasing this feeling.”
“What feeling?”
Her gaze met mine, and damn if that soft look in her eyes didn’t make me feel loved. “This?” She rested her head on my shoulder. Her fingers swept the inside of my wrist. “Whatever this is.”
“Peace.” It was peace. I put my arm around her and pulled her closer to my side. “All yours now.” Because I loved her in a way that didn’t seem real. That all-consuming love people say doesn’t exist outside of bullshit Hollywood movies and books. Something I felt without trying. Something I’d felt even when I tried, to my own detriment, not to. I hadn’t told her I loved her since the night I’d slammed back a bottle of whiskey, and while the urge was clawing at my insides, there was still a part of me that was hesitant. Afraid to give myself over. I drew in a breath, telling myself to blurt out the damn words, but before I could, she pointed at the sky.
“Look, it’s the drunk sloth.” She traced the pattern of stars with her finger.
Back in high school, Jade had gone through an astronomy phase, and we’d lie on the roof of Dad’s trailer, stargazing. None of the constellations made sense to me. They all looked like random patterns, but it made her happy. Once, I’d pointed out a cluster of stars I thought looked like a football. Jade started referring to it as Wilson. Every time we’d find a pattern, we’d make up a name for it. It was stupid, probably, but those nights felt like they belonged to us. Like the rest of the world didn’t exist. All the pressures of school and home-life, and all the bullshit seemed to disappear. “I still say it looks more like an anteater.”
“An anteater with no nose? You realize that is literally the key feature of an anteater.”
“It has a nose.” I pointed at the cluster of stars that looked just like a damn nose. “Right there.”
“That’s the sloth’s arm.”
“You see an arm, I see a nose.”
“You sure you haven’t had too many head injuries on the field?” She waved a hand in front of my face. “Maybe your eyesight is going.”
“My eyesight is just fine, thank you.” I lay back on the worn wood and pulled her down beside me. “It’s a nose.”
Jade rested her head on my bicep and slid her palm beneath my shirt, absentmindedly drawing circles over my stomach. Such a simple, almost innocent touch, but God, did it feel good. That touch wasn’t about sex. It was affection, love…electrifying and soothing all at once. Something that made me feel grounded, wanted, needed. I wasn’t sure how I’d made it a year and a half without this. Without her.
I held her close to me and pressed my lips to the top of her head, soaking up the moment. The peacefulness of the pond, the feel of her breathing against me, the coconut scent of her hair. Not that long ago, I thought I’d never have this again. That everything between us had been burned to shit. But there we were, in each other’s arms.