Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
So were adults.
“Yeah. Oh, I forgot. Can you grab that delivery box downstairs? I need somewhere to put the stuff that came in the gift basket.”
“Yep, no problem. I’ll be right back.”
I probably had enough room in my bags for those items—especially since I ate all my snacks—but I just needed a second without Rook watching me with those intense eyes of his.
I was surprised how much I was struggling to keep a mask up around him. I’d spent my entire life trying to hide any of my true emotions, knowing how much some people around me would enjoy taking advantage of them, using them against me, teasing me about them. I’d been a master masker.
Maybe it was just because I’d been on my own for so many weeks now. I was out of practice. The skill would come back. I still needed it.
I set my mind to packing up all my clothes, then everything in the bathroom.
When Rook came back, we put my blanket, stuffed animal, and various other items inside.
“Is this everything?” Rook asked when we made it down to my car and I popped the trunk to reveal a mostly empty interior.
“Yeah.”
I was lucky to have been able to grab as much as I had. What I did bring, I’d shoved into a bag without paying attention. So I had something like six pajama pants but only two bras. And no socks. Not a single pair. And I only had the shoes that had been on my feet at the time.
Everything else—from my toothbrush and bath products to my pillows and various essentials and more clothes and shoes—had been purchased on the road. With precious money I really needed not to spend. But I also had to have contact solution, hair ties, and a brush.
I was actually impressed with how much I’d managed to accumulate on my own. On the road. Sleeping in my car.
That said, from an outsider’s perspective, yeah, it was pretty bare bones. No personal items at all.
That said, Rook’s place was lacking character too.
“It’s just essentials,” Rook observed. “No books, keepsakes…”
“Says the guy with completely empty bookshelves.”
“Hey, we don’t disrespect Johnny 5 like that.”
“Do you like building stuff like that?” I asked as we climbed in the car.
“I never really got to as a kid. Those building sets were expensive as fuck. We never had the money for bills, let alone toys that you can only use once. That one was a gift from Dell for Christmas, since she heard me talking about loving the movie as a kid.”
“That’s sweet. You’re really lucky to have people in your life who pay attention like that.”
“Trust me, I know,” Rook said, voice intense. “But, yeah, when I went away, there was no one around to save my shit. I imagine most of it got sold or tossed. Then spending time inside, where you can’t have anything, I guess not accumulating stuff became habit.”
“Doesn’t help that you know that anything you do get will be touched and scrutinized by Nancy.”
“Yeah, that’s a factor. A lot of the stuff I had that I liked was shit for my desk setup: chair, lighting, storage systems for keyboards. But I can’t have any of that now.”
“I get it. Though, maybe if we are going to really try to sell this serious relationship thing, we should pick up some art or picture frames… just anything to make it seem like we are settling in together.”
“Should probably take some pictures together too. Spend a day going around to different places, snapping a picture, changing, taking more.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” I agreed, parking right on the street outside of the studio. That was the perk of such a small town—you never had to worry about parking spots. Except maybe on a Friday or Saturday night when the bar and pool hall were bustling.
We moved in comfortable silence, unpacking the car, sorting my items, and moving them into the appropriate places. Including my silly little mermaid mug in the cabinet next to his that featured a computer circuit grid.
“Nancy didn’t have something to say about this?” I asked him.
“I don’t think she knows what it is,” he said with a shrug.
“Wait, no. Those should be on the couch,” I called when he took my blanket and stuffed animal toward the bed.
“No. You’re taking the bed. I’ll be on the couch.”
“What? No. You won’t even fit on the couch.”
That wasn’t even to mention how damn uncomfortable the thing was. I’d sat with him on it for all of five minutes, and my butt had been sore.
“It’ll be fine.”
“Rook, come on. I’m smaller; I should be on the couch.”
My body was already accustomed to sleeping in uncomfortable spaces. I’d been sleeping with a seatbelt buckle jabbing me in the hip for weeks. I could handle an overly firm couch.