AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What’s so funny?” I ask as I sit down.
A blush reddens her cheeks. “Oh, nothing. Just some nonsense from Rebecca.” She eyes the fries between us, but makes no move for one.
“You don’t want to share?” I take a bite of my burger, which is obviously delicious since I made it.
“Nope.” She takes a swallow of her Sun Drop. “So, what exactly did you mean when you said you knew what moving here could mean for us? Like, what does us mean?” She reaches for a fry and dips it in my ketchup as she adds, “I don’t know what we are or how we came to be this way or that we ever had the same thoughts. That’s what I’m trying to say.”
I deserve a medal for sneaky effectiveness since she’s eating. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing. Now, I think about how I’m going to answer her. I place my burger on my plate and grab my glass for a sip of my drink.
Her eyes widen as she grabs another fry. “I’m making you nervous?”
My eyebrows bunch together. “What makes you say that?”
“Well, when you had the panic attack at the restaurant, you grabbed the back of your neck. It’s your tell, and you’re doing it right now.”
Suddenly, I realize that I am doing just that and immediately drop my hand. Clearing my throat, I decide to ignore the tidbit about my apparent tell. “I meant that I felt like things would move beyond texts and phone calls, and that we would probably explore things. Which is what we’re doing now.”
She’s been studying me while stealing a few more fries. “Exploring things?” I can’t quite read her tone, but I nod. “Does that mean if someone asks me out on a date, I’m available to say yes?”
I immediately frown. Is there someone else trying to steal my girl from me before I truly have her? What the hell? That’s for damn sure not happening. “You are not available to say yes,” I answer gruffly before taking a bite of my burger.
A wry smile lifts her lips. “Good to know.”
We eat in silence long enough for me to finish my burger. The idea she’s planted in my head that someone may be trying to get her to go out with him is annoying the hell out of me. Is it true or was she testing me? I finish off the last of my drink. “That was a hypothetical question, right?” I finally ask, unable to help myself.
Brittany laughs. “Yeah, it was.” She’s eaten about half the fries. “Well, I guess I better get back to my homework. Or do you need help cleaning up?”
I shake my head. “I’ll get it.”
She nods and leaves the kitchen. I finish off the fries before cleaning up. It’s good to be home because I definitely don’t want to be anywhere else. However, it’s good and bad that Brittany is here. I’m ready to lie down and do nothing. With her here, I can stay in the present and not get lost in my head. Hopefully, anyway.
Brittany is still working on her assignment when I walk into the living room. She’s moved to the couch, though, so I sit in the recliner. I pop the foot up and recline back, staring at the ceiling. Part of me feels like I’ve lied to her. What I should’ve told her is that I knew if I got the job, I would want more from her. That I would ask for more and would do whatever it took to get the chance. I glance over at her. As she’s reading over what she wrote, she’s squeezing her wrist. If I could do anything for her, I’d take away the anxiety and depression. She’s too beautiful, too bright, and too great of a person to be dragged down by something that can be so debilitating and destructive.
She’s been reading for the last few minutes, so I assume she’s doing a read-through. She sighs.
“Let me see it,” I say before she can delete what she’s written. “Maybe you need a second opinion.” Or someone to put a stop to the endless edits. I sit upright and hold out my hand for the laptop.
Brittany surprises me when she stands and takes a seat in my lap. She sits the laptop so I can read her paper and then she starts squeezing her wrist. I stop the habit by holding one of her hands. “Be honest,” she orders.
I nod and begin to read after she explains the topic to me. A few minutes later, I determine there’s absolutely nothing wrong with the paper. It’s well-written and explains the topic well.
“It’s terrible, right?” Brittany asks the second I finish.
I reach around her to save it. Then I close the laptop and place it on the floor next to the chair, ignoring her questions and objections. I wrap my arms around her and recline us. “Which draft is that?”
“Only the second,” she answers, resting her head on my shoulder to get comfortable.
“Do you want to know why your papers keep getting less than an A?”
“Because they suck,” she grumbles with a subtle duh tone.
“Because you keep redoing them until they do. That is a great paper, but if you keep rewriting
everything and second-guessing it, it’s going to suck. Your first and second draft are good. You need to stop with all the rewriting.”
“But—”
“But nothing. That’s my honest opinion. Was there something else you were going to work on?”
