Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 94546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
When thunder claps above our heads, Merrick raises his to the sky. “Looks a little nasty this morning.”
“Is it ever not nasty?” I thought New York’s weather was bipolar, but it has nothing on Seattle. Their idea of a heatwave is seventy-five. I find that a little chilly. “Lucky I remembered my umbrella.” I wiggle the flimsy four-dollar thrift shop purchase I gathered from the foyer of my building before waving my pass across the terminal and entering the platoon area. “See you tomorrow, Merrick.”
He mutters a goodbye under his breath before closing the gate separating us and giving the captain the all-clear to go. The ferry is mostly covered, but with my mind on an obvious blink, I move to the bow of the boat to take in a sight I’ll never grow weary of witnessing.
The Seattle skyline is mesmerizing. I only saw it in photographs before moving here. I wouldn’t say shifting to the other side of the country on a whim was the best decision I’ve ever made, but it certainly has its advantages.
A handful of children eager to race to the Seattle Great Wheel dart past me when the ferry arrives downtown. The glee on their faces has me envious they’re on holiday, and I’m not. Not even the rain has dampened their eagerness. It isn’t surprising. When you’re on vacation, nothing matters.
I can’t recall the last time I went on vacation. It was before my family’s entire existence was upended, and we didn’t have to count pennies to pay for luxuries.
I want to say I miss those days, but in all honesty, I don’t. Greed is a terrible thing, and it truly does prove that money cannot buy happiness.
With my mind focused on my past, I lower my umbrella, then push through the revolving doors of a downtown office building without registering that someone is partway through their rotation.
“I’m so sorry,” I blubber out when my shove slingshots the traveler out the other side. “I was deep in my thoughts.” My words quiver at the end when the man lifts his head a second after correcting his slanted tie. “Jack…”
I’ve got no more words.
Not a single one.
Except perhaps…
“What are you doing here? You can’t come here. This is my place of employment. I could be terminated if you cause a ruckus.” Although remorseful for the way I kicked him out, I wasn’t lying this morning when I said I’m paying both Caleb’s and my share of the rent. I can’t lose my job. We will be homeless in a week if that happens.
Jack’s shy grin doubles the already brisk speed of my heart. “There’s no chance of that happening,” he mutters more to himself than me before he places his hand on my elbow and guides me to a bank of elevators. “And I also don’t believe you’re sorry.” He peers at me through a dark strand of wet hair flopped in front of his right eye. “Well, not for the shove anyway. Last night, though—”
“Floor! What… ah… floor are you visiting today?” I bark out, needing to veer our conversation away from an incident I may never be ready to discuss.
Jack pushes the button for level seventeen before he cages me between him and the glass elevator wall.
“Jack…” I murmur, familiar with the gleam in his eyes even after only witnessing it a handful of times in an embarrassingly quick fifteen hours.
“Shh…” His reply makes me sticky, and it has nothing to do with the humidity of a rainy summer morning. “These elevators are monitored, and I want to keep this between us.”
I nod. Don’t ask me why. I just do.
He appears pleased by my agreeing gesture, but his stamp of approval gets smudged only seconds later.
“Why did you lie?”
“I didn’t—”
He pushes his index finger to my lips, making not just our conversation extra stuffy but the elevator car as well. “Why did you lie?” he repeats, slower this time.
“I… ah…” I stop, certain we can’t have this conversation while others are listening in. “Umm…”
Jack frees me from making a fool of myself by snatching the baton out of my hand. “Is it because I was… did I not…” As my eyes bounce between his, confused by the embarrassment choking his muttered words, he asks, “Did I not please you properly?” My deviant mind begs for him to start proceedings now when he presses his lips to the shell of my ear and murmurs, “I can learn. You can teach me what you like.”
He inches back to peer into my eyes when I reply, “You don’t need classes, Jack. You exceeded all my expectations and then some. I’ve never been more satisfied.”
Relief passes through his dark eyes a mere second before confusion returns. “Then why did you lie?”
“Because—”
Jack doesn’t interrupt me this time around. The ding of the elevator arriving at my floor does.