Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
So what are you up to tonight? he asked.
I’m watching a thrilling kids’ movie with Star and Mom. Don’t be jealous.
I just might be. The guys are playing poker in Flash’s room, but I haven’t made my way down there yet.
Sounds like fun, I replied, and this time I thought it did. Just hanging out with people you could laugh with sounded pretty good to me. Maybe I’d make sure Pete was around.
Guess I’ll see when I get down there.
I could almost hear the hesitation in his words.
Why does it seem like you’re dragging your feet? It’s okay if you’re not up to it. Or do you feel like you have to because of team-captain status and all?
Maybe, but it’s more than that. It gets to be a bit much. The smack talk about girls and pretending to be into that.
I’m sorry.
No, don’t be. It helps to talk to you.
God, I felt for him. Maybe this was about more than our shared history. Or maybe that history would help build the basis for a decent friendship too. As long as we didn’t ruin it.
Well, I’ll be here with my bowl of popcorn.
Jealous. And thanks.
“You’re smiling,” Mom said when she sat back down. “Who were you texting?”
“Henners. That’s Henry’s nickname.”
“Cute. I like it.” She studied me. “Did you want to go meet—”
“Nope, I’m happy right where I am.”
20
HENRY
I was heading to my parents’ for dinner, but I woke up clammy and with a killer headache, and not from partying last night. I’d made an appearance in Flash’s room but retired early, not really feeling it. In fact, everything felt out of sorts lately. I wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with Lark coming back into my life and the idea that I couldn’t be honest about who I really was with anyone but him.
And that was something I had come to crave. Texting him, seeing him, being able to touch him even though I didn’t know how long it would last. Lark would likely tire of all the secrecy soon enough, and I couldn’t blame him.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” I told Spencer on my way out the door. After getting in my SUV, the same one I’d owned since my sixteenth birthday despite my parents’ advice to trade it in for a shiny new one, I drove to my parents’ house in Flemington, which was about forty minutes away.
I pulled up to the gated community and punched in the code.
My parents weren’t at my game yesterday because it was away. I knew that my parents and teammates saw me as a star quarterback in tip-top shape and with few worries, but nothing could’ve been further from the truth. Lark was wrong about one thing during our conversation last night: if he were in the stands, I would feel supported in a different way. The kind of way I needed right then.
I parked in the driveway, walked up to the front door, and let myself inside.
“We’re in here, honey,” Mom said from the kitchen. I walked through the house, looking at it from Lark’s perspective. The ornate decorations, the expensive paintings and furniture. It was all I knew, but now it felt almost like overkill. Why did they need all this stuff anyway? Mom hosted plenty of dinner parties and charity events here, so that was one explanation.
I rounded the corner to find Mom standing at the kitchen island making a salad and Dad sitting on a stool with paperwork in front of him. Always working. They were known as a real-estate powerhouse and had hoped I’d take to the industry like they had. But I’d always been interested in math and science, so engineering seemed the right path.
I felt underdressed in my jeans and Sentinels sweatshirt. Mom wore heels with her tailored pants and blouse, and Dad looked professional in his slacks and button-down shirt. Professional, even in their own home. But that was them, ready for the day. I realized right then that I’d rarely seen my parents in comfortable clothing unless it was bedtime or Dad was heading to the gym.
Dad smiled at me as I walked around the island to kiss Mom on the cheek. They were never big huggers, but I could’ve used one right then. In fact, now I questioned if that was why I was so addicted to spending time with Lark. He provided me with the kind of touch I craved from people. But then, if that were true, I would’ve been fine with affection from women too.
“Can you set the table?” Mom asked as she checked on the roast in the oven.
“Sure thing.” I moved toward the cupboard—and the room started spinning. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I’d taken one more aspirin before I left.
“Feeling okay?” Mom asked in a worried tone. She likely wouldn’t admit it in front of Dad, but my childhood illness had traumatized her too. Don’t get me wrong, my parents were there for me, and some nights I could see the fear in my dad’s eyes too, but they were action-oriented people, and asking for the best care and top doctors was how they thrived.