Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“Thanks, I’m pretty proud of it.” I set my keys down in the catch-all on the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen. I wasn’t exactly a design savant but I got by. My cloud couch was one of my favorite items in the entire house and honestly one of my most prized possessions. It was the focal point of my living room, which was mostly minimal with some beige and brown accents and a pop of color with the navy pillows and bright oil paintings that sat on top of my fireplace.
“And who’s this handsome fluff ball?” Miles asked as he turned his attention down to my purring roommate.
“That’s Nike,” I answered with the same tone as a proud dad introducing his favorite son.
“Oh, like the Greek goddess?”
I shook my head. “Nah, like the shoe brand.”
Miles laughed at that. “Cute.” I knew he wasn’t making fun of me, but my self-doubt and anxiety sometimes made me see things that weren’t there. Should I have just run with that Greek goddess thing? Would that have made me seem smarter? Could that be why Miles just wasn’t as into me as I was into him?
Maybe he thought I was as dumb as a bag of rocks. And honestly, he wouldn’t be that far off…
“Yeah, I found him inside an Adidas box but I hate that brand. So Nike it is.” I figured maybe over-explaining myself would fix things.
That made Miles laugh even harder. He glanced down at his Adidas shoes by the door. I followed his gaze. “They’re my favorite,” he said.
“Oh… shit.”
Well, so much for fixing things. Now he thought I was stupid and judgmental. Great. Just fucking great.
“Just teasing you,” he said, reaching out and grabbing my elbow. I froze at his touch, my skin sparking around where his fingers gripped me. “These are my backup sneakers. I’m a Nike fan, too. More so after meeting their new mascot.”
“Be careful. He’s already got a big head, I don’t want him getting any ideas. You should see the way he bosses me around when it’s time for dinner.”
As if Nike knew we were talking about him, he looked up and gave a loud meow before sauntering over to his favorite spot in the house: a comfortable navy footrest that had the shape of his curled-up form imprinted on it.
“Make yourself at home,” I said, motioning toward the couch. “Want something to drink? Beer, wine, water?”
“I’m good with water.” He walked over to the couch and sat, sinking back into the cushions. I went to the kitchen and poured us both glasses of icy cold water. I could use a beer to calm my nerves but decided to stick with what Miles was having. I brought the water out to find that Miles had stood back up and was admiring the paintings I had above the fireplace. He reached for one—the only photo in the bunch—and then turned to me. I set the water down on the coffee table.
“That’s me and my cousin, Benji,” I said, smiling at the memory. It had been taken on my sixteenth birthday. “I think that was one of the last times we ever hung out.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it was the summer after that when my dad decided to blow up the entire family. This is the only photo I think I kept.”
“Have you tried reaching out to him?”
“Back then, yeah, when it was all kind of fresh. But my aunt had always taken my dad’s side, no matter how wrong he was, and they all just wanted a complete break. I think she gave my cousin an ultimatum. Cut ties with me and my mom or face their wrath.”
“You guys were kids back then. Maybe things are different now. Would you want to reconnect with him?”
I didn’t give it a second thought before answering. “Absolutely. He was my best friend growing up. I think it hurts even more that it wasn’t anything either of us did that ruined the friendship.”
“Give me your phone.” Miles held his hand out.
I arched a brow, reached in my pocket, and gave him my phone. He tapped it and aimed the camera at my face so that it would unlock. “I’m not going to find anything scandalous here, am I?”
“Just don’t open the photo album.”
“Open the photo album, got it.” He laughed as he went instead to my social media. He opened the search bar. “What’s his full name?”
“Benji Woodworth.”
“Have you tried searching for him on here?”
I shook my head. “He was always really against having a digital footprint. I doubt he’d—”
“This him?” Miles showed me the screen and my jaw dropped.
“Holy shit… you found him.”
There was Benji, smiling at me from a sparsely populated Instagram profile. The photos were years old, most of them using one of those classic sepia filters that wasn’t even available anymore. It felt weird, seeing someone I was so close to and yet hadn’t spoken to in years. He must have been in his early twenties in these photos. I tapped on the first one and checked out the date. Sure enough, it was about five years old. The location was tagged and set to a city in New Mexico.