Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
I lick my lips.
You know how?
And then, right there, on High Street, on the sidewalk in front of my damn shop, she and Aro start dancing, thrusting, and moaning in ecstasy as they flip their hair all around like strippers.
Snorts go off in the shop, and I let my eyes fall closed, holding in something between a growl and a laugh. I’m going to kill them.
I’m…
I’m…
I’m really going to kill them.
“I’m…um…” I clear my throat and look at the customer again. “I’m willing to…try.” I grab a business card from the slot on the counter and hand it to him. “Feel free to email me a request, and I’ll see what I can do.”
He smiles, taking the card. “Thanks.” And then gesturing to the case of blondies, “I’ll take all of them, actually.”
His friend laughs, and I get busy packaging up the rest, glaring at Dylan and Aro through the glass case.
Try it! Dylan holds up one more sign. Sex is soooooo super fun!
Then they both give me all their thumbs up.
My forehead dampens with sweat, but then I realize my hair and shirt are sticking to my neck and back too.
Are they really allowed to just leave the kids at the camp during the day like this? I’m texting Jax.
Unfortunately, work doesn’t keep me at the shop as long as I would like. I stayed open a little later than usual in hopes of some stragglers, but by five, the door is closed. By six, leftovers are dropped off at the fire department this time and the deposit is made at the bank. By seven, the dough is prepped for the morning and the place is clean. Emails are answered. Inventory done. Shipment of coffee stocked.
I check the lock on Frosted’s door, then glance at the clock on the wall.
7:58.
Blood warms as it flows down my arms.
I didn’t tell Dylan I would go to the gym.
But she is expecting me.
I walk to the floor-length mirror, trying to ignore the little way it feels like my lungs aren’t taking in enough air, or how I can’t think of anything else other than how I’m expected somewhere right about now.
I brush a few strands of hair out of my face.
Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I take in the pizza sauce staining the canvas-colored apron wrapped around my waist, and the flour on my forearms that I missed when I washed up. Everything went well today.
Almost.
I always worry if customers can tell when I’m frazzled. While I’m turning a profit, even with all of the menu additions, the higher utility bills from staying open longer, and the new equipment I ordered for the ice cream stand, I still haven’t figured out the part I promised my mother I would. My time.
I need to start delegating responsibilities and training Noel or Hailey to run the shop so I can have a day off. I’m not sure what I would do with one, though. I abandoned most of my hobbies years ago, and I don’t have friends. I mean, ones not named Trent or Caruthers, at least.
I love Dylan, of course. I feel good around Aro. Hawke is one of my safe places. And Kade and Hunter would never fail me. Other than that, I think I should want friends, but I really don’t. Maybe I just find family easier because they have to accept me. With anyone else, I don’t like half the shit that comes out of my mouth, and I go home feeling like I spent hours trying to make a relationship happen that I didn’t want anyway. I could’ve spent that time cleaning something. Or researching flavor combinations. Or exercising or sleeping or reading or peacefully walking and getting lost in the breeze while listening to music in my earbuds. Every single one of those things more enjoyable than dying slowly at some lunch or movie outing that just ends up feeling like something else I had to fit into my schedule.
Maybe I’ll just go jogging tonight, instead. Ride my bike to Eagle Point Park and run through there. It’s closed to everything but foot traffic at night. Jared won’t find me. He still hasn’t learned that he can track everyone he loves on an app on his phone. God help us when he does.
Pain strikes in my stomach, and I exhale. I haven’t eaten since before noon. I pull my ponytail out, fluff my hair, and tie it back up again before removing my apron.
Lucas probably isn’t even at the gym. Or maybe he was and now he’s gone. Or perhaps he won’t work out till later. Who knows…
Several dark spots spread across the mirror, some in clusters and others splattered out like stars in a sky, and I use the apron to brush at them. They don’t come off. I tsk. The mirror is deteriorating. I wish we could get the damn thing off the wall.