Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“I really wanted him to go,” Kinsley says, and although, I don’t admit it out loud, I feel the same way.
I watch as his body gets smaller and smaller, the farther away he gets, and then something in me snaps. As if the thought of him disappearing altogether is unfathomable. “Wait!” I yell, grabbing Kinsley’s hand and running to catch up with him. When he doesn’t slow down, I repeat myself. “Wait! Lachlan!” I shout. This time, his steps falter, and he turns around. Out of breath, and mentally telling myself I really should get serious about going to the gym more often, I finally reach him.
“We would…um…” I take a deep breath, nervous to actually speak the words I want to say. It’s just a hot dog and a museum, I tell myself, but somehow I know it’s more than that. And while I’m not sure exactly what more means, it scares the hell out of me. “We would really like it if you would join us.” I let out a loud exhale, waiting for Lachlan to respond. Afraid he’s going to dismiss me.
“You sure?” he asks, his face showing no emotion.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“All right,” he says, a small grin teasing his lips. “Let’s go.”
“Yay!” Kinsley squeals.
Seven
Lachlan
I can’t help the grin I’m sporting as I pay for the hot dogs and drinks. When Quinn pulled me aside, I knew I overstepped. I gambled and lost. So, I said my peace and then walked away. It sucked, but I wasn’t about to force myself on the woman, no matter how much I want her. I know firsthand you can’t make someone want you. You might feel the sparks, but if the other person doesn’t, you have no leg to stand on. I knew she felt the sparks between us, but for whatever reason, she was trying with everything in her not to acknowledge them. Until I walked away and heard her calling after me.
I barely know the woman, but I could see it in the way she nervously spoke, the unsureness in her tone, it took a lot for her to chase me down and ask me to join her and her daughter. For a second, I considered giving her a hard time, but then I looked into her eyes and saw fear. Afraid of being vulnerable, afraid of putting herself out there and open to rejection. So instead, I asked if she was sure, offering her an out, and when she said she was, I considered that a huge step in the right direction.
“You don’t have to get me one,” Quinn says. “I’m not really hungry.” I tilt my head slightly, not liking what she’s saying. It shouldn’t surprise me, though, since she’s made quite a few comments pertaining to her figure.
“Yeah, you are,” I say, holding up three fingers to the guy and handing him a twenty dollar bill. When he hands me the food and drinks, I hand them out. Both girls say thank you and open their wrappers to take a bite.
“Eww, Lachlan,” Kinsley says, watching me add every condiment available to the top of my dog.
“Have you ever tried all these together?” I ask her. She shakes her head. “Then you don’t get to judge.” She rolls her eyes as she takes a bite of her plain hot dog.
We walk down the sidewalk, eating and listening to Kinsley talk. She keeps the conversation flowing, telling us all about the mean boy in her class who bugs her, how she’s excited for her first soccer game next Saturday, and all the exhibits she wants to visit once we get to the museum. When we stop by their house so they can quickly change, I look up the museum to find the easiest subway route. But when I mention it to Quinn, she says, “That’s okay. We can just take my car. It’ll be quicker.”
Not many people drive in New York. I own a vehicle because I lived in Boston for a few years, but I keep it parked at my parents’ place since I don’t drive it often here. Not only does Quinn have a vehicle, she has a fucking Porsche SUV. From what I’ve heard, she has a photography business she’s building. I’m not trying to get up in her business, but I’m definitely curious to know how much photographers make. Clearly, I’m in the wrong profession. But you know what they say: you don’t become a tattoo artist for the money; you become one because of your love of the art.
The ride there doesn’t take too long. When Kinsley falls asleep on the way, Quinn says, “She’s reenergizing her batteries,” with a laugh that makes the corners of her eyes crinkle. It’s the first playful thing I’ve heard from her, and it has me wanting to make her laugh more often.