Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
The bacon my mom’s cooking up, it’s long forgotten, her eyes glued to us and yearning for more.
“You might say I was at a crossroads,” he goes on. “Do I stay on a path in life that’s suckin’ the marrow out of my bones? Or do I choose myself for once and … go after what I want?” His lips purse as he says all of this to me, still gripping his mug. “Meetin’ TJ here, that’s what gave me the final push. I chose myself.”
“Always choose yourself,” insists my mom, completely drawn into his story, spatula still in hand, eggs sizzling away behind her. “You’ve gotta choose what makes you happy in life.”
I glance at her. Does she really believe that? Or is it Austin’s presence that has her acting so free-spirited? For a bitter moment, I wonder if her whole tune will change the second Austin goes and she’s back to telling me how I need to shadow Dad all day long.
The next second, I decide to contribute to the story. “I was lost, too.” Austin listens. My mom as well. And the storm, too, in its own way, splashing violently against the windows. “I’d had a pretty bad final day on campus. My big plans with my bestie fell through. The last thing I expected was to meet a guy whose first instinct wasn’t to run away from me … but to run toward me.” A warm smile finds my face. “Now I’m a Chase Holt fan for life.”
“Oh, what a sweet story,” says my mom, beaming. “I’ve gotta listen to some of this Chase Holt music myself.”
Austin and I share a look, tickled by that.
Then she turns to me. “Big plans with your bestie? What big plans are you talking about, sweetie?”
My heart skips a beat.
An abrupt flash and a bang of thunder shakes all the windows with such intensity, I fear our pavilion just got struck by lightning and rush to a window to check. From this angle, I can’t quite tell. That was awfully close, wherever it struck. “Someone sure must’ve pissed off the gods,” says my mom, a hand to her chest, “because that’s no natural storm out there.” She turns her attention back to breakfast, poking at the eggs, and I guess the question about my big bestie plans is conveniently forgotten.
Thank you, thunder gods.
Then I hear a cow moo. Mug still in hand, Austin pulls out his phone with his other and peeks at it, silencing the cow. I watch his face tighten. He pockets it again and goes right back to his coffee, gaze lost on the nearest window, while my mom mutters on about how it floods out here too easily.
I don’t ask him about it for some reason.
It’s the afternoon when the rain clears up. My dad’s still out—apparently he was invited to wait out the storm at whatever farm in Brookfield he’s at, whose name I’d know if I spent a lick more time studying our clients’ names, my mom lovingly reminds me—and Austin and I are at the window watching raindrops drip from tree branches. “So … feel like hitting the town later if the weather cooperates?” I ask Austin, then playfully add: “We can always hide somewhere if the rain comes back.”
He nods with his eyes on the window. “Sure. But we won’t be doin’ any hidin’. Not from anything. Not now, not ever.”
I’m taken aback slightly by his somber, pensive tone.
Again, I ask nothing.
The sun doesn’t exactly come out, the sky staying cloudy and overcast, but we head into town anyway for lunch. I tell Austin in the car about a birthday party I had that got totally rained out, laughing as I try to describe my mom rushing all over the place pulling her decorations into the house since it was supposed to be an outdoor pool party thing, then hoping the same thing doesn’t happen on the Fourth, and while Austin smiles and chuckles, I can tell his mind is somewhere else.
We’re seated in a corner booth at Biggie’s Bites, Mick having just taken our order in his usual low-energy, zero-personality way. There’s no one else here but an older couple near the front, totally out of sight.
I notice Austin running a thumb over his lips as he gazes off in thought—a nervous habit of his I haven’t seen in a while.
That’s when I crack. “Is everything okay?”
Austin meets my eyes at once. “Of course. Why?”
“I’m ready for people to know,” I tell him. “Like, the town.”
He lifts his eyebrows questioningly. “You mean—?”
“Is that what’s been on your mind? My parents are respecting me wanting to come out on my own terms, even if it’s killing my mom not getting to brag to Nadine just yet, but … I never thought to ask you. If we come out, more people might see us, recognize us, and … and talk about us. And that could matter.”