Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
I’m pretty sure it will work as long as I don’t crack under pressure, but as soon as I hear my mom pull in the driveway, my stomach begins gymnastics training for the winter Olympics.
Since I’m anxious, I’m fidgety when Mom comes in. She tosses her keys in her purse and drops it on the table just inside the doorway, then she walks over to the couch, flings herself down dramatically, and sprawls out.
“I am exhausted. Being an adult is terrible.”
I crack a smile. “Long day?”
“Literally everyone I work with took stupid pills today—and not their normal dose, either. These were extra strength stupid pills.”
I walk around the couch and take a much less dramatic seat beside her. “I’m sorry.”
“I need an infusion of joy—and a personal chef, ’cause Momma ain’t cookin’ tonight.” She sighs, sinking even deeper into the couch. “Why didn’t I marry rich and become a trophy wife?”
“You’re too picky,” I point out. “Trophy wives might get bank accounts full of money to play with, but they can’t usually be as selective as you are.”
“That is true. Damn my standards!”
I get a little less comfortable knowing I’m about to lie, but I don’t keep my gaze averted for long so she doesn’t get suspicious. “Well, in that case I have good news.”
“You learned how to cook while I was at work today?”
“No, but you don’t have to feed me, after all. Sara asked if I could come over. I know we were supposed to veg out and watch TV tonight, but I have a science test coming up that I’m super not ready for. Since Sara is so good at science, I was hoping it would be okay with you if I went over so she could help me study.”
“Aw, man. I was looking forward to bingeing bad movies with you.”
“I know, me too,” I say, and I mean it. My stomach twists into so many knots, I start reflexively doubting my decision.
I mentally review Hunter’s playful texts from earlier to renew my dedication to my cause. I want to go out with him. Maybe Mom thinks I’m too young, but I don’t, and it’s not her life.
“But school comes first,” Mom says, nodding and not even questioning our change of plans. And why would she? She’s always been able to trust me before.
Before Hunter.
My mood threatens to sink again, doubts about her being right fighting to the surface, but I shove them down.
“So, I can go?”
“Yeah. Now I don’t have to be a responsible adult and make dinner, I can just have a bowl of cereal in my PJs. What time do you need me to take you so I can mentally prepare for standing again?”
I shake my head. “Cool, I’ll text her and see what time she wants me to come. You don’t have to take me. I’ll just walk over.”
“You sure?”
I nod, standing up and making my way back to the kitchen. I need privacy to text Hunter because I have a feeling it would only take one look at my face and my mom would know it’s not Sara I’m talking to.
“The ‘yes’ is secured. I repeat, the ‘yes’ is secured,” I text him. “What time/where should we meet up?”
My heart pounds as I stare at the screen and wait for him to read my message and respond. It only takes a few heartbeats, then he answers back, “I knew you could be devious” with a winking emoji.
“Don’t say that, I’ll back out,” I joke.
“Let’s meet on the bridge, then we’ll walk to the movie theater.”
My brow furrows in mild confusion. “I thought we were going to watch a movie at your house?”
“We can if you want. I thought you might be more comfortable going out.”
“More comfortable?” I question.
“You, me, alone in my house. It’s dark. The movie’s probably scary… maybe you should come a little closer.”
My eyes widen and I type back. “Movie theater—good call. What time?”
“How’s 7?”
I flick a glance at the clock hanging on the wall in the kitchen. “Works for me. We won’t have time to eat first though. I don’t have a curfew, but I told my mom I’m studying at Sara’s so I have to be home before ten.”
“Not ideal, but doable. We can get hot dogs and nachos at the theater,” he sends back. “Next time we make a secret date, we should start planning earlier so we have more time.”
Next time. We haven’t even gone on a first date yet and he’s already assuming there will be a second. I want to play it cool and flirt back about how cocky he is to assume I’ll even go out with him again, but I’m too excited.
I feel floaty again as I head to my bedroom to get ready for my first date. I hate that my mom doesn’t know about it, though. I always imagined her sitting on my bed helping me pick an outfit the night of my first date. Like Hunter pointed out, I’m not super fashionable, so I would’ve felt a little more confident with her input.