Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
“What are your thoughts on swimming?” I asked next, withdrawing my hand. “Our pool sits empty most days from noon till five PM.” In the mornings, we had two instructors taking turns hosting classes for senior citizens and parents with babies, and in the evenings, we had water aerobics.
“I love swimming, actually.” Natalie huffed a breath and straightened up, and she rubbed at her spine. “I feel better now.”
I took a step back and clasped my hands behind my back. “You ready to continue? We’ll take as many breaks as you need, but I’d like to up the pace a bit.”
She gave me one of those stiff smiles. “Super fun. Let’s go.”
I grinned.
Was the concept of lying to oneself moot if you were catching on to the fact that you were doing it?
I eyed all the flannel shirts I had in my closet. They were pressed tightly to the side to make room for shit I thought others liked. Formfitting pullovers, nice dress shirts, suits, and slacks that made my ass look incredible. But as time went on and I came home from horrible dates, I was beginning to have doubts.
The chick I’d had drinks with after work today had made me grateful I hadn’t asked her out to dinner.
But she was supposed to have been a good match. She’d flirted with me at the gym, I’d eaten up the attention, she was younger and full of life, and I…hadn’t understood a word of what she’d rambled about. We hadn’t been on the same page in life for a moment. Working out and being healthy were the only things we had in common, and even that had felt off. Partly because I wasn’t sure I knew what the fuck I was doing anymore.
I was part of the big health machine chugging along on Instagram. I took the ginger shots, the supplements, and only ate and drank organic. And yet, I felt fucking obnoxious whenever I ordered food and had serious questions about the production and preparation.
I’d studied nutrition and physical health all my life. I could tailor a diet for most people. I knew what worked. I understood the whys and the hows. So, I very well fucking knew that not every beer I ordered in a bar needed to be organic. I knew that I wasn’t going to die or get sick if I had pancakes for breakfast one day instead of oatmeal with whey in it.
I preached about variety and moderation to clients but had very little of that for myself.
My home was a reflection of my weird life choices too. Instead of buying a nice house with nature as my backyard, like my brothers had, I’d opted for a brownstone loft with high ceilings and a shitty elevator that didn’t always work. I’d gone for marble and stainless steel instead of oak and a fireplace.
Maybe I should—
The doorbell rang, and I took a breath and shut my closet. My kid brother was here.
I could question my whole damn life later.
I crossed my bedroom and the living room, then opened the door for him in the hallway.
He was holding two takeout boxes, and he lifted his brows at me. “When you said you had a date, I assumed you were gonna cancel… Now I’m seein’ you in sweatpants? I don’t think my brain can handle that shock, bro.”
I refrained from rolling my eyes and opened the door wider. “Nice to see you too, Lias.”
He smirked and entered. “Disgusting gyros for you, no bread, no fries, no sauce, extra lettuce.”
I accepted the takeout container and closed the door again.
Lias didn’t shy away from wearing his flannel shirts. Then again, nobody in our family did, aside from me. We were definitely a flannel and jeans family.
The game was about to start, so I’d prepared the coffee table in the living room with napkins, utensils, and beverages. Coke for him, water for me. ’Cause God forbid I had a fucking soda every now and then.
While I sat down on the couch and flipped the lid of my gyro salad, Lias did the same with his container. Except, he’d ordered a chicken kebab with all the fixings. Crunchy fries, pita bread, garlic sauce, and spicy sauce.
“How’s work?” I asked. I worried about him up there sometimes. Lias had grown up as the family clown who loved to be around people, but ever since his girlfriend had broken up with him, he’d become a hermit. He lived and breathed the campground he’d opened a few years ago up near Coho Pass. Ma had to bribe or threaten him to come down for family dinners.
“It’s steady.” He bobbed his head and opened his soda. “Shit usually slows down this month, but so far, so good.”
Nice. I bet it helped that they were predicting a fairly warm September.