Total pages in book: 203
Estimated words: 199654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 998(@200wpm)___ 799(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 998(@200wpm)___ 799(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
She rears back. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
“I’m a short, stereotypical nerdy bookish girl, with glasses and too much junk in her trunk. I’m also clumsy as hell, can’t cook to save my life so no wifely qualities whatsoever, and I’ve got some less than ideal personality quirks. I don’t usually dress like this either. I’m not exactly his type.”
“Nothing stereotypical about you from where I stand. You’ve got some self-confidence issues, clearly, but you gotta know you’re pretty. You’ve got pretty eyes, great hair, those bee-stung lips, and a rack most women would pay big money for. I would, if I had more than six dollars and thirty-seven cents in my savings account.” She points to her non-voluptuous chest. “And your derriere? You’re pin-up model shaped. That dress is perfect for highlighting your assets.”
I shrug.
“Be confident. Own all you’ve got goin’ on, girl. He’s obviously into all of it.”
I shrug again before I pick up a fluffy champagne-colored braided throw with sparkly threads woven into it and chuck it into the cart, thinking it’ll look good draped over that pastel pink reading chair. And now my face is hotter because I shouldn’t even be thinking about that chair in Jase’s house in a reading nook he’s planning on building for me with his very capable hands, because he remembered I like to read up there.
I stop myself from lingering on that thought too long because I could get to watch him build that reading nook, watch those very talented hands build bookshelves from scratch. I’ve always loved to watch Jase work with his hands.
I grab two new bookish coffee mugs and when my total is rung up, there’s exactly fifty dollars left available on the card.
Jase appears beside me and is gathering up bags of books.
“Can I buy a smaller gift card with what’s leftover?” I ask.
“You can just leave the balance on this one and use it later,” she tells me.
“How many kids do you have, Marla?” I ask.
“One. A little girl. She’s three.”
“Then you keep the gift card. Here,” I say. “Buy some new books for her.”
“Oh my goodness. You don’t have to do that!”
“I insist.”
“I’m not sure if I’m allowed to accept it,” she says.
“Get the manager,” I suggest.
***
“That was sweet of you, Bay,” Jase says, pulling out of the parking lot.
“It was you that paid for the gift card,” I remind him.
“It was sweet of you,” he repeats.
I gave the manager a rave review of Marla, telling her she knows her stuff and asking if I’m allowed to give her the balance on my gift card as a tip. Marla’s manager agreed it was no problem and thanked us for our patronage. Though the manager was near retirement age, it didn’t stop her from eyeballing Jase appreciatively.
He loaded up the back seat with many bags of books along with my bougie blanket and new mugs and now we’re pulling in to the parking lot for the steakhouse down the street.
“Mom and Dad bring me here for my milestone birthdays,” I say, staring at the building.
“I know,” Jase answers. “I was here for the sixteenth, remember?”
As if I could forget. Jase doesn’t know that I forget almost nothing. It’s probably why I can hold on so tight to a grudge.
I was told I could pick a friend to bring for that sweet sixteen dinner and I picked Jase, which my parents and Grey thought was hilarious. But Jase was sweet about it, playfully tugging on my braid and thanking me because this place makes the best steak. I ordered a steak that night, just the way he ordered his.
And then I couldn’t eat it because even a little bit of red on the plate seemed just as bad as if it swam in blood. My brother was the only one that caught on to me sneaking my meat into my napkin and taking it to the restroom so I could flush it.
“Did you run around today asking people for advice for tonight?”
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
“On planning this date,” I elaborate.
“No. Why?”
“You remembered how much I like it here. Buying me all the books… I mean…”
“On your sixteenth birthday, you said about ten times that it was your favorite restaurant.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t you remember I gave you a gift card to come here three or four years ago for that secret Santa party?”
“Right.”
I felt like it was kismet that he’d drawn my name in that Secret Santa draw. I invited him to help me spend the gift card and he laughed it off like I was joking. I wound up bringing Cicely with me.
“And anybody who knows you knows how much you love books. Seeing your bedroom, how stuffed those bookshelves are, the fact that you spend your days surrounded by them… I knew I’d need to build you more than those bookshelves in our place, so that’s what I’m gonna do. Tall ones with one of those rolling Beauty and the Beast ladders like you want. I remembered the chair because… because I guess I just remembered it.” He shrugs.