Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
The truth was, making friends had never come easy to me. I had many acquaintances, but no one I would consider a best friend. I had always hoped those relationships would come later in high school, but then I was diagnosed with cancer at fifteen, and I watched those dreams slip away like sand in an hourglass.
I wasn’t lonely. I adored my parents, and I always had my characters in my books to keep me company. But I couldn’t deny that I longed to know what a true, close friendship felt like. Someone to completely confide in.
I made a right, then a left, marveling at the living spaces that were filled with board games and couches, a vast kitchen, and even a movie room. The glass doors to the outside showed a large swimming pool and a firepit ringed with Adirondack chairs. There were other outbuildings, no doubt filled with exciting things.
But as I turned right again, I realized that I was completely lost. The laughter from someone in the house had faded away, and I could no longer follow the intriguing sound to navigate through the many corridors.
I turned left, hoping it would help me circle back to something familiar, when I came to a sudden stop just before I barreled into someone turning my way. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said as I stepped back.
When I looked up, it was to see a tall boy in a blue shirt with the sleeves cut off, faded blue jeans, an orange baseball cap on his head—worn backwards—a football in his hands, and the most striking green eyes I’d ever seen. My breath lodged in my throat as I took in his whole face.
He was, simply put, the most handsome boy I’d ever laid eyes on.
“Wow,” he said, country-boy Texan accent thick as he stared down at me too. “You’re beautiful.”
I felt heat instantly flood my cheeks, and a small smirk pulled onto his mouth. An unfamiliar sensation trickled down my spine. A boy had never called me beautiful before, never even looked my way—especially not one that looked like him. Disbelief quickly followed. Because when I looked in the mirror these days, I felt far from beautiful.
But despite my fluster, I couldn’t pull myself away from this boy. He quickly wiped his hand on his shirt and held it out. “I’m Jesse.”
I forced one hand to release the notebook clutched to my chest, placing it in his, and said, “June.” There was shyness to my voice, but when I saw a tint of redness kiss his cheeks too, I knew I wasn’t the only one experiencing this strange feeling.
One look at the lack of hair under his baseball cap told me he was obviously one of the patients here too. I swallowed, heart flipping as Jesse smiled and dimples popped in his cheeks. He was tall and, despite his illness, broad in frame with slightly muscled arms. He held on to his football, and I held on to my notebook—and I realized we were still holding hands…
I quickly pulled mine back, and Jesse shook his head. “Sorry about that, June.” His voice was as graveled as the driveway outside.
“That’s okay,” I said. I tried to walk away, but my legs wouldn’t move. There was something about this boy that kept me close. And the same peace that had washed over me in my room flowed over me again—as did the same flicker of excitement and the feeling that I was meant to be here.
Destined.
CHAPTER 3
Jesse
Brown eyes, slightly tanned skin, and a spray of freckles over her cute nose. Maybe five foot five, with a blush to her smooth cheeks. I cleared my throat when I realized I was staring at her.
June.
By the headscarf, I knew she must have been the eighth patient in the trial who we had heard would be arriving today—but I hadn’t expected her. She was…stunning…beautiful. I couldn’t really find the words to do her justice.
I clenched my hand that had shaken hers, a heat stamp imprinted within it. June held a notebook of some kind to her chest like it was a shield. Her eyes flickered everywhere but on me, only for a fresh blush to burst onto her cheeks when they were finally drawn back to my stare.
The color green of her headscarf and dress made her deep-brown eyes shine like glazed dark chocolate. I cleared my throat, realizing I had to speak. “So, June, are you here for the trial?” I wanted to slap myself. Considering she was as follicularly challenged as I was, that was obvious.
What a dumbass question.
“Yeah,” she said, her soft voice hitting my chest with the force of a bullet. She looked down at her feet, then shyly met my eyes, gesturing around us with her hand. “I was trying to explore some while my folks are in with Neenee and got myself lost.”