Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
He had a right to be concerned. I’ve been nothing but unhinged here, letting my real life spin away from me like confetti in the wind while I pretend to be someone else in this town. Someone new. Someone who’s not me.
Then I see his face again, from just earlier today.
At the Fair.
I did one of the most reckless things yet and snuck out of the bungalow in my jacket, shades, and hat, making use of the free pass Welcome Basket Brooke left me. But let’s face it: I had zero interest in cinnamon sugar pretzels or winning purple plush octopi out of a claw machine. I had to see Finn. The days were rolling on by and I was losing my fucking mind, suffocating within these walls. And when I finally found him, I panicked. What was I doing? Stalking him? What did I plan to do when I found him? Say hi? Ask him about the weather? Was I totally fucking nuts?
Then he looked my way.
And I bolted.
Made my way straight back to the bungalow.
Threw my hat, shades, and jacket at the floor, crawled under the sheets of my bed, and pretended it didn’t happen.
But it did. And I’m fairly sure he saw me. I’m certain he did—the weirdo baking himself alive inside a hot faux-leather jacket.
“Are you ready to tell me the full story yet?”
Anya’s question brings me back. When I look up, I’m thrown for a second, not recognizing her goo-covered face or the sensitivity in her eyes.
Then there’s a knock at the door.
I look up, my heart racing at once. I leave her gooey face sitting there and move to the front window and poke a finger through the blinds. The knock comes again—and I realize it’s from the back door. I hurry to the kitchen.
Through the door window, there stands Finn.
My guardian angel in a fitted sky-blue button-up shirt with short, bicep-hugging sleeves over khaki shorts.
Is he here to confront me about sneaking around at the Fair like a weirdo? If he’s here just to tell me in person to never do that again, I’ll deserve it. I’ll even thank him and oblige his request, no matter how mortifying it may be.
I open the door. “You’re back.”
He replies: “You’re all over the internet.”
I freeze. Not what I was expecting.
But of course this should happen. It was far too much to expect Finn to stay in the dark forever. He was bound to grow curious at some point, despite his strange aversion to the film industry, and look me up. It was inevitable.
Now he’s one of them. One of the ones who saw the video, read the worst, and drew the easiest conclusion.
Our short-lived connection was too good to be true.
Maybe I would’ve preferred him banishing me for the weird Fair-stalking ordeal earlier.
“There’s a reason, right?”
His question stops me. “What?”
“For what you did? Attacking that guy? It’s bothering me ever since I saw the video. Can I come in? Thanks.” He slips right past me and enters the kitchen, bewildering me. I notice a plastic bag hangs from his grip, which he quickly sets on the counter and forgets about, turning back to me. “The video starts so abruptly. Like, it’s obvious there was a lot that happened before the incident, but you don’t see it in the video. You see almost nothing except for you shouting at him—can’t even make out the words, too much echo—then throwing the punch and storming off. That doesn’t tell us anything. And was it recorded by a camera guy? That’s my guess. Or an intern. Someone pulled out their phone to capture what they could, but they missed how the argument started—the vital piece. And that’s …” He stops suddenly, as if taking his first breath, then sinks against the counter, looking winded. “… that’s what’s been bothering me.”
His speech slowly hiked my eyebrows up my forehead. I probably look stunned.
I wasn’t expecting so much analysis from Finn.
He’s an overthinker. An intellectual gym bro. Replays everything he experiences in the 4K screen of his mind on loop with surround sound until it makes sense.
I’m suddenly holding back laughter.
Finn notices and frowns. “What’s so funny?”
“Sorry.” I sober up. “Really, sorry. Just …” I close the back door and lean against it. “I just didn’t expect this.”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought you’d be …” Suddenly I’m not sure what I thought. “People are saying a lot of things about me.”
“I know.”
“Digging up my past.”
“I’m sure they are.”
“It’s not difficult to draw conclusions.”
“Is that what you want me to do?” Finn meets my eyes. “Draw conclusions?”
I look at him. “No.”
“Then I need to know what happened,” he says. “What actually happened. I … I think you owe me that.”
“I owe you that?”
“I need to know if my family and I should be worried. Our business, specifically. Is Hopewell Resorts and Rentals harboring a criminal? Is the reputation of Dreamwood Isle at risk? Or is this whole thing blown out of proportion and you’re actually some kind of … of hero? Just give it to me straight. No!” he shouts when I’m about to open my mouth. “No, no. Not yet. I’m not ready.” He takes a breath. “Okay. Now I’m ready. Tell me.”