Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“You know . . .” I wave a hand vaguely, as though the details are too intricate to explain. “The usual stuff.”
Lucy’s brows arch higher. “The usual stuff? Like logrolling?”
My friends’ brows all shoot into their hairlines simultaneously.
“Of course.” I double down because why quit now? I am on a roll. A logroll, get it? Ha ha. “You think champions wake up one morning and say ‘Hey, I’m gonna roll a log today’? No. It takes commitment. Practice. Skill. Years of grueling dedication.”
Elijah wheezes next to me, completely unhelpful as he fake coughs the word idiot.
“Bruh,” I grind through clenched teeth. “Go somewhere else.”
He ignores me, still panting like he might actually choke. He loves this shit. He lives for drama, on and off the playing field.
But Lucy? She studies me, confusion beginning to mar her pretty features.
“You know,” she says slowly. “I would love to stop by the marina later and watch you in action. If you don’t mind.”
My brain flatlines. “What?”
“I’m sure Annabelle wouldn’t mind—the lumberjack thing was half my idea to begin with.” She laughs. “We were out one night brainstorming, and one too many glasses of wine later . . . here you are.”
Uh. “Can’t wait.”
“Well.” She inhales a fresh breath of mountain air. “This was a fun morning, but I have to pick up these mats and get to an appointment.”
With that, she begins collecting several borrowed mats, rolling them as if she’s done it hundreds of times before. Looking as if she hasn’t wrecked my entire afternoon.
“Need a hand?” I offer, though I’m not sure if I’m being polite or panicked, my friends watching every move I make. They’re invested now.
“I’ve got it, but thanks.” She flashes me a quick smile over her shoulder, all the mats now securely tucked under her arm. “See you at the marina, Lumberjack.”
Lumberjack.
“See you,” I choke out, careful not to turn my head, lest one of my buddies decides to—
The second her car door slams and the rest of the class is gone, my friends are on my ass like flies on shit.
“It’s killing me to hear her call you a lumberjack.”
“It’s my favorite new nickname.”
“Have you actually been hanging out at the marina?” Quinton asks, narrowing his eyes like he’s interrogating a criminal. “Please tell us you’re not actually logrolling. You’re gonna get hurt.”
“I’m not,” I lie. I do not owe them answers. “I mostly watch.”
Elijah bursts out laughing. “You are such a fucking idiot.”
I snap, glaring at him. “Lumberjacking is my new kink.”
“Kink?” Quinton folds his arms, grinning. “If you don’t tell us what you’re up to, we’re going to start following you around—we will not rest until we know what you’re up to.”
Damn him!
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out, because there’s no universe where the truth sounds normal.
“It’s complicated,” I start. “We ran into each other yesterday morning, and she assumed I was a lumberjack, and . . . I didn’t correct her. So yeah, I may or may not dash down to the marina and check it out.”
“Wait, wait, wait. So you are logrolling? I’m so fucking confused.”
“I’m pretending to be a missing lumberjack.” I avoid all eye contact and slide into my flip-flops, staring down at them like they’re the two most interesting objects in the world.
Quinton throws his head back, sputtering. “A missing lumberjack? How do you become a lumberjack?”
“You are such a fucking idiot,” Elijah says again.
“It just happened.” I start the slow walk to the parking lot, and they trail along beside me. “We crashed into each other, started talking—and when she asked if I was a lumberjack, I thought it was so fucking funny that I—”
“Lied through your teeth?” Elijah cuts in, grinning so wide he might actually explode. “And now you’re the star of the fall festival?”
He’s saying it like it’s a bad thing.
“I’m doing the Lord’s work.”
“Yeah. You remind us so much of Moses.”
We reach my truck. I whip around to face them, hands raised like I’m about to deliver a motivational speech. “Listen. You guys are acting like this is impossible, but I thrive under pressure. You know this better than anyone. If anyone can learn how to roll a log in a few hours, it’s me.”
“So what’s your plan? Google videos?”
“Great idea.” We pile into my truck. “Hadn’t thought of that.”
“You’re telling me,” Elijah says, still laughing, “that you’re going to master the art of logrolling on the internet.”
“No, jackass—I’m going to watch and pay attention to the pros. How hard can it be?” I boast, shoving my key into the ignition, more confident than I was down by the lake. “You can learn anything by watching.”
Quinton lets out a wheeze as he buckles his seat belt. “Yeah, like how to humiliate yourself faster.”
“Or how to write your obituary,” Elijah adds, still grinning in the back seat. “Because, buddy, that’s where this is headed.”