Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“Fashion designs?” I asked, taking my seat.
“Yeah. I used to want to be a fashion designer.”
“How does one go from wanting to be a fashion designer to becoming a therapist?”
“I ask myself that all the time.” She paused and shrugged. “I guess I wanted to do something that helped people feel better.”
“Great clothes can do that—a confidence boost of sorts.”
“True, but after I went through something hard, I turned to therapy. It helped me so much that I wanted to help others. I still design pieces for Ava. Most of the stuff you’ve seen her wearing was made by me.”
“No way. That’s amazing, Kierra. These designs are amazing. I see where Ava gets her sketching talent.”
She laughed. “She’s a million times better than me.”
We began drawing as we listened to the water crashing against the shore. There were periods of time when we were silent, yet that didn’t feel uncomfortable or awkward. It just felt…right. There was something so welcoming about a peaceful silence. I hated forced conversation.
Every now and then, I’d catch Kierra looking my way out of the corner of my eye, and I didn’t know why, but when she looked at me, my whole body heated up.
“Okay, drawing-hand break. Time for a game,” she said, placing her drawing pencil down. “Two truths and a lie.”
I put my pencil down, laced my fingers together, and stretched my arms in the air. “Game on. You first.”
“I am deathly afraid of roller coasters. I played softball all through high school. I won a whistling competition.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You can’t whistle for shit.”
She arched an eyebrow, seemingly stunned by my pick. Then she licked her lips multiple times, puckered her lips together, and blew. And not a damn whistle came out. Only the sound of her blowing air.
I chuckled at the worst attempt at whistling I’d ever heard in my life.
“Okay, not a professional whistler,” she confessed. “Your turn.”
I rubbed my palm against my chin. “I’m allergic to shellfish, I don’t like peanut butter at all, and I used to smoke cigarettes.”
“Easy, you never smoked.”
“That’s true.”
“Okay, my go.” She rubbed her hands together as she turned to face me more in her chair. She folded her legs into the chair and got comfortable. “Heart and Souls is one of my all-time favorite movies, I love puzzles, and I’m in love with my husband.”
My chest tightened from her last one. “You don’t love him.”
She tugged on the sleeves of my sweatshirt and slowly shook her head. “I don’t love him.”
“Have you said that out loud before?”
“Not until now. Not until here.”
“Why now?”
Her shoulders rose and fell swiftly. “I guess you just make it easier for me to be real.” She bit her bottom lip and looked down at her hands in her lap. “Your go.”
“All right, um.…” I took a big chug of my wine before setting the glass down. “I want to draw you right now, I’ve had multiple dreams about you, and I love grilled-cheese sandwiches.”
Her eyes widened with astonishment as she whispered, “You hate grilled-cheese sandwiches.”
“I hate grilled-cheese sandwiches.”
Her full lips stayed slightly parted. “Which means the other two are true?”
“The other two are very true.”
“Okay.” She tugged on the sleeves of my sweatshirt more, before standing and pulling her chair back away from me. She then sat and posed. “You can draw me.”
I gathered my materials and began to draw her. We sat in silence again for at least twenty minutes as I sketched until she said, “You really dream of me?”
“Often,” I stated, staring down at my sketchbook.
“What are the dreams about?”
I paused my pencil strokes and looked up toward her. “About me loving you.”
“Oh,” she murmured. “Do you wake up happy after them?”
“No,” I quickly confessed. “Because when I wake, I know that the dreams aren’t true.”
Her lips turned down as a somber thought found her. She looked like she had a lot to say. As if her thoughts were spiraling so fast that she wasn’t certain what words would make the most sense to express. She glanced at her phone. “What time is it?”
I glanced at my watch. “Two in the morning.”
“Geez, I should get going. If Henry comes home and I’m not there, it will be a whole thing.” She stood from her chair and smoothed her hands over my sweatshirt. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. Not a problem.”
I drove her home in silence while my mind debated repeatedly whether I’d overshared during the two truths and a lie game. I was beating myself up with my thoughts about it the whole time, but what was I supposed to say? Sorry for telling you the truth, Kierra. Oh, also by the way, not only do I dream about you, but I think about you every waking day of the week. No big deal.
As I pulled up to her place, she thanked me once more before she opened the passenger door.