Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
If he wants me, then he should just say so. I’m only eighteen. I don’t know how to go about any of this stuff.
I’m not sure if it’s a guy thing or because I’m only eighteen, but my dad doesn’t seem to notice the extreme effect something or someone is having on me, but Lucy notices. She gave me the same look she shot her dad after scolding him for how he was acting, but her look hurt me because why wouldn’t a guy as handsome and successful be interested in me? Even if he’s not, it’s pretty bad when my best friend doesn’t even wanna entertain the idea of me being with a perfect ten of a man, let alone anyone else.
I wait for her to bring up Josh but then recall that her dad doesn’t know about him yet. The knowing smile that spreads across my face is just enough for her to see before I come in here after leaving the table. From what I heard Lucy and her dad arguing over earlier, it sounds like she wants to go home for good, which is fine by me.
Six months of her day in and day out and the thanks she gives me is the “as if you’d have a chance anyway” look? I love my bestie with all my heart, but part of what makes our friendship so strong is that it can weather moments like tonight when I wish she were on a cargo ship to Fiji instead of in our house.
What if Bowdie is interested in me? Could our friendship stand that test? Not to mention my dad…
By the time I splash some cold water, practically feeling like it’s steaming off my flushed face before rejoining everybody, I still don’t know how I will get through the rest of a “wholesome” evening with family friends. My mind wants to go places far from wholesome, and there’s only one man I want to join me there.
Lucy has the dishwasher stacked, and my dad’s already warning Bowdie he’s about to get his ass kicked playing some board game that isn’t his usual highly competitive, real estate-based one. It’s some game where you have a card saying who you are stuck on your head and have to ask questions to see if you can guess who you’re supposed to be. Great. A “worse than charades” type deal that will involve lots of my dad carrying on and all of us play-acting and pretending, precisely what I don’t feel like doing anymore.
Bowdie asks if I feel better as soon as he spots me, and although I nod before he’s even finished, I can tell he isn’t trying so hard to ignore me like he was earlier today. I feel embarrassed again, feeling childish for getting upset when he wasn’t looking at me every five seconds, but I like it. I love it whenever he looks at me, even if it’s only for a moment.
With all that “accidental” leg touching over dinner, I get brave enough to let him watch me as I sit next to my dad, who yanks me down next to him, instantly making Bowdie look deflated and annoyed. I feel the loss too, but it would look weird if I was suddenly glued to the man in front of my dad, even though that’s the only thing I want.
I don’t care if I’m gonna look like a fool. I promise that tonight, I’ll find out if Bowdie is interested in me in that way or if I’m only imagining it. All I need now is a way to do that.
Dad lectures us on the rules of the game. Each of us has to write a person’s name or place on a card. The cards get shuffled, and then we get handed a card, which we stick to our heads without looking at it. I know, riveting night in, right?
When I see Bowdie with his name on the card he sticks to his forehead, I know I might have a way of finding out how interested he may be in this curvy girl half his age who happens to be his best friend’s daughter. My mind’s blank when dad appoints me first to go first, urging me to ask a question about who I am in the game.
Blundering my way through the first round, Dad and Lucy seem to forget about anything awkward over dinner and have a secret passion for this game.
“Am I a place?” Dad asks, all of us giving a resounding “no” before he gets to ask for two more clues.
When it’s Bowdie’s turn, I feel my stomach tighten. My mind suddenly floods with the million things I’d love to know about him, but I have only one real question. I doubt he’d offer that one up as a clue. He does pretty well at this game. Better than I do. Maybe he and Lucy played it more than we did growing up.