Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 22709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
“Really?” Ten little piggies popped out of their hiding spots.
I leaned in closer to see the designs, ranging from swirls to flowers, each one just as pretty as the last. “Definitely. They look better than most people get at a salon.”
His lips stretched into a proud smile. “Thank you.” Geo opened the door wider and motioned over his shoulder. “Come on in.”
I stepped inside and couldn’t hold myself back for one more moment. I took him in my arms and kissed him deeply. I couldn’t get enough of Geo, especially since most of our time together was spent at work, meaning our physical interactions were limited to makeout sessions in the alleyway. That didn’t mean I didn’t appreciate every single one of them.
After our first date, Geo invited me over to his place for dinner the following Saturday, which was why I was standing in his home with him in my arms, but neither of us could wait for this moment. We went to lunch together every single day. The more time I spent with him, the more I craved. I finally had time alone with him, and didn’t want to waste a single second. But I also didn’t want him to think I was only there for just physicality. I wanted everything with him.
I managed to peel myself away from his lips, and looked around the large foyer surrounding me. Like the outside of the structure, the interior was perfect…almost too perfect. It lacked any kind of personality. The walls were adorned with fine art, which complimented the very specific color scheme of beige…and more beige. I doubted Geo’s parents even liked the paintings, assuming instead that they were supposed to like them.
There were no hot glued daisies or other signs of Geo’s personal touches. I doubted he was allowed to contribute to the decor. Hell, the only reason his wreath was hanging was probably because his parents weren’t there to take it down. And suddenly I understood the chaos of Geo’s desk at work. It was his space to decorate as he wished.
He guided me through the living room and dining room. Each space was more pretentious than the last. I nearly choked on the stuffiness of his father’s office, and Geo’s facial expressions told me he felt the same way; there was no smile on his face or gleam in his eye as he showed me around.
That was, however, until I followed him into the den. His entire body language changed; he stood taller and walked faster until he reached a stand holding a huge rectangular aquarium that took up half of the wall. The bottom of the tank was lined with perfectly round stones which appeared polished. Several plants swayed in the gentle current of the water, and a bright red fish swam between the leaves.
“And this,” he announced with a bright grin and pride in his voice, “Is Richard Swimmins.”
I snorted a laugh before I could stop myself, but Geo didn’t appear bothered; he only beamed wider. “I love the name.”
“Thanks.”
“What type of fish is he?” It was an awfully little thing for such a big tank, but it was very pretty as well. He had billowing fins that flowed behind him as he swam.
“He’s a betta. I’ve had him for years; since I graduated high school.”
I was surprised to hear it; I had a goldfish once, but it only lasted a week before meeting an untimely end. “You must take very good care of him.”
Geo nodded and added, “I even taught him tricks.” Assuming he was joking, I let out another laugh, but his eyes widened. “I’m serious! Watch.” He faced the tank and lifted a small bottle of fish food, giving it a shake. “Come on, Richard; let’s show him what you can do. Ready? Follow.”
Geo moved the jar slowly back and forth in front of the glass, and I'd be damned if that little fish didn’t swim right along with it. “That’s amazing,” I said dumbfoundedly. “I thought dogs were the only pets that could learn tricks.”
“My parents would die before they let me have a dog,” Geo answered sadly. I had no doubt. I’d never met the people, but I was certain shedding and carpet accidents were absolutely out of the question.
“But watch; it gets better,” he insisted. He led the fish left to right, up and down, and even in a circular motion, leaving me surprised and impressed. And then Richard Swimmins was rewarded with a heaping pile of fish flakes. As he nipped away at his food, Geo stuck his fingertip in the water and gently stroked down his scales. I’d never known anyone to pet a fish, but at the same time, it made total sense when Geo did it.
A high-pitched beep sounded in the distance and Geo beamed. “Dinner’s ready. Do you care to grab it out of the oven while I wash my fish hands?”