Review: Samsung Wireless Charger Duo
good 2
Six years earlier
d: “Where are you?”
: “Ian’s house.”
d.“We need to talk.”
-: “Can it wait until tomorrow? I’ll be home late.”
d: “No. I need you home now. I’ve been wailing for you since school let out.”
: “Fine. On my way.”
That was the conversation that led to this moment. Me, sitting in front of my dad on the couch. My
dad, telling me something [don’t care to hear.
“I would have told you sooner, Miles. I just-”
“Felt guilty?” I interrupt. “Like you’re doing something wrong?”
His eyes meet mine, and Ibegin to feel bad for saying what I said, but I push the feeling down and keep going.
“She’s been dead less than a year.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, [want to throw up.
He does...
(continues)
d: “Where are you?”
: “Ian’s house.”
d.“We need to talk.”
-: “Can it wait until tomorrow? I’ll be home late.”
d: “No. I need you home now. I’ve been wailing for you since school let out.”
: “Fine. On my way.”
That was the conversation that led to this moment. Me, sitting in front of my dad on the couch. My
dad, telling me something [don’t care to hear.
“I would have told you sooner, Miles. I just-”
“Felt guilty?” I interrupt. “Like you’re doing something wrong?”
His eyes meet mine, and Ibegin to feel bad for saying what I said, but I push the feeling down and keep going.
“She’s been dead less than a year.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, [want to throw up.
He does...
(continues)
...
My name isn’t Rachel," I say, freeing myself from his iron grip. “It’s Tate.” Idon’t know why I clarify what my name is, because it’s not likely he’ll remember this conversation tomorrow. I walk to where the throw pillow is and pick it up off the floor.
I pause before handing it back to him, because he’s on his side now, and his face is pressed into the
couch cushion. He’s gripping the couch so tightly his knuckles are white. At first, Ithink he’s about to get sick, but then I realize how incredibly wrong I am.
He’s not sick.
He’s crying.
Hard.
50 hard he isn’t even making a sound.
I don’t even know the guy, but the obvious devastation he’s experiencing is difficult to witness. I look down the hallway and back to ...
(continues)
I pause before handing it back to him, because he’s on his side now, and his face is pressed into the
couch cushion. He’s gripping the couch so tightly his knuckles are white. At first, Ithink he’s about to get sick, but then I realize how incredibly wrong I am.
He’s not sick.
He’s crying.
Hard.
50 hard he isn’t even making a sound.
I don’t even know the guy, but the obvious devastation he’s experiencing is difficult to witness. I look down the hallway and back to ...
(continues)
...
the look he gets in his eyes when he talks about her that I hate. I never saw him look at my mother that way, so whoever she is, I know it’s not a casual thing. She’s about to seep into our lives, intertwining around and through and between my relationship with my father like she’s poison ivy. It’ll no longer be just my father and me. It’ll be me, my father, and Lisa. It doesn’t feel right, considering my mother’s presence is still everywhere in this house.
He’s sitting with his hands folded in front of him, clasped together. He’s looking down at the floor.
“I don’t know if this will go anywhere, but I want to give it a shot. Lisa makes me happy. Sometimes moving on is . . . the only way to move on.”
I open my mouth to respond to...
(continues)
He’s sitting with his hands folded in front of him, clasped together. He’s looking down at the floor.
“I don’t know if this will go anywhere, but I want to give it a shot. Lisa makes me happy. Sometimes moving on is . . . the only way to move on.”
I open my mouth to respond to...
(continues)
...
in love with.
I Can’t say that, though, because it’s obvious what’s bound to happen. Rachel isn’t the next girl I’ll fall in love with, because Rachel is the girl who will more than likely become my new stepsister.
For the second time tonight, I feel sick.
Lisa smiles and Clasps her hands together. “That’s great,” she says. “I’m so relieved.”
My father walks into the room. He hugs Lisa. He says hi to Rachel and tells her it’s good to See her again.
My father already knows Rachel.
Rachel already knows my father.
My father is Lisa’s new boyfriend.
My father visits Phoenix a lot.
My father has been visiting Phoenix a lot since before my mother died.
My father is a bastard.
“Rachel and Miles already kn...
(continues)
I Can’t say that, though, because it’s obvious what’s bound to happen. Rachel isn’t the next girl I’ll fall in love with, because Rachel is the girl who will more than likely become my new stepsister.
For the second time tonight, I feel sick.
Lisa smiles and Clasps her hands together. “That’s great,” she says. “I’m so relieved.”
My father walks into the room. He hugs Lisa. He says hi to Rachel and tells her it’s good to See her again.
My father already knows Rachel.
Rachel already knows my father.
My father is Lisa’s new boyfriend.
My father visits Phoenix a lot.
My father has been visiting Phoenix a lot since before my mother died.
My father is a bastard.
“Rachel and Miles already kn...
(continues)
...
The blond, lanky guy immediately stands up and walks over to me. He extends his hand. “Tate?” he asks. “I’m Ian. I grew up with Miles. I’m a friend of your brother’s.” He points to the elevator guy, who is still seated on the couch. “This is Dillon.”
Dillon gives me a nod but doesn’t bother speaking. He doesn’t have to. His **** eating grin says enough about what he’s thinking right now.
Miles walks back into the living room and points to the television. “This is kind of a thing we do some Thursdays if either of us is home. Game night.”
I don’t care if it’s their thing. lhave homework.
“Corbin isn’t even home tonight. Can’t you do this at your apartment? [need to study.”
Miles hands Dillon a beer and then looks back at me...
(continues)
Dillon gives me a nod but doesn’t bother speaking. He doesn’t have to. His **** eating grin says enough about what he’s thinking right now.
Miles walks back into the living room and points to the television. “This is kind of a thing we do some Thursdays if either of us is home. Game night.”
I don’t care if it’s their thing. lhave homework.
“Corbin isn’t even home tonight. Can’t you do this at your apartment? [need to study.”
Miles hands Dillon a beer and then looks back at me...
(continues)
...
‘Somebody stabbed you in the neck, young lady.” My eyes widen, and I slowly turn toward the elderly gentleman standing at my side. He presses the up button on the elevator and faces me. He smiles and points to my neck.
“Your birthmark,” he says.
My hand instinctively goes up to my neck, and I touch the dime-sized mark just below my ear.
“My grandfather used to say the placement of a birthmark was the story of how a person lost the battle in their past life. I guess you got stabbed in the neck. Bet it was a quick death, though.”
Ismile, but I can’t tell if I should be afraid or entertained. Despite his somewhat morbid opening conversation, he can’t be that dangerous. His curved posture and shaky stance give away that he isn’t ...
(continues)
“Your birthmark,” he says.
My hand instinctively goes up to my neck, and I touch the dime-sized mark just below my ear.
“My grandfather used to say the placement of a birthmark was the story of how a person lost the battle in their past life. I guess you got stabbed in the neck. Bet it was a quick death, though.”
Ismile, but I can’t tell if I should be afraid or entertained. Despite his somewhat morbid opening conversation, he can’t be that dangerous. His curved posture and shaky stance give away that he isn’t ...
(continues)
...
Asshole. He grins seductively after seeing me check him out-only I wasn’t checking him out the way he
thinks Iwas. In my mind, I was wondering how many times that body has been pressed against a girl
who wasn’t his Wife.
I feel sorry for his wife. He’s looking at my cleavage again when we reach floor ten. “I can help you with that,” he says,
nodding toward my suitcase. His voice is nice. I wonder how many girls have fallen for that married voice. He walks toward me and reaches to the panel, bravely pressing the button that closes the doors. I hold his stare and press the button to open the doors. “I’ve got it.” He nods as if he understands, but there’s still a wicked gleam in his eyes that reaffirms my immediate dislike of hi...
(continues)
thinks Iwas. In my mind, I was wondering how many times that body has been pressed against a girl
who wasn’t his Wife.
I feel sorry for his wife. He’s looking at my cleavage again when we reach floor ten. “I can help you with that,” he says,
nodding toward my suitcase. His voice is nice. I wonder how many girls have fallen for that married voice. He walks toward me and reaches to the panel, bravely pressing the button that closes the doors. I hold his stare and press the button to open the doors. “I’ve got it.” He nods as if he understands, but there’s still a wicked gleam in his eyes that reaffirms my immediate dislike of hi...
(continues)
...
bed. I have about three more suitcases and at least six boxes down in the car, not to mention all my clothes on hangers, but I’m not about to attempt those tonight. Corbin said he’d be back in the morning, so I’ll leave that to him.
I change into a pair of sweats and a tank top, then brush my teeth and get ready for bed. Normally, I would be nervous about the fact that there’s a stranger in the same apartment I’m in, but I have a feeling I don’t need to worry. Corbin would never ask me to help someone he felt might be a threat to me in any way. Which confuses me, because if this is common behavior for Miles, I’m surprised Corbin asked me to bring him inside.
Corbin has never trusted guys with me, and Iblame Blake for that. He was my ...
(continues)
I change into a pair of sweats and a tank top, then brush my teeth and get ready for bed. Normally, I would be nervous about the fact that there’s a stranger in the same apartment I’m in, but I have a feeling I don’t need to worry. Corbin would never ask me to help someone he felt might be a threat to me in any way. Which confuses me, because if this is common behavior for Miles, I’m surprised Corbin asked me to bring him inside.
Corbin has never trusted guys with me, and Iblame Blake for that. He was my ...
(continues)
...
apartment when Itry to pull away from him.
“I need to get in there,” he mutters, just as my butt meets the floor. He makes an attempt to push the apartment door open with his other hand, and this immediately sends me into panic mode. I pull my legs the rest of the way inside, and his hand comes with me. I use my free leg to kick the door shut, slamming it directly onto his wrist.
“****!” he yells. He’s trying to pull his hand back into the hallway with him, but my foot is still pressing against the door. Irelease enough pressure for him to have his hand back, and then I immediately kick the door all the way shut, I pull myself up and lock the door, the dead bolt, and the chain lock as quickly as I can.
As soon as my heart rate be...
(continues)
“I need to get in there,” he mutters, just as my butt meets the floor. He makes an attempt to push the apartment door open with his other hand, and this immediately sends me into panic mode. I pull my legs the rest of the way inside, and his hand comes with me. I use my free leg to kick the door shut, slamming it directly onto his wrist.
“****!” he yells. He’s trying to pull his hand back into the hallway with him, but my foot is still pressing against the door. Irelease enough pressure for him to have his hand back, and then I immediately kick the door all the way shut, I pull myself up and lock the door, the dead bolt, and the chain lock as quickly as I can.
As soon as my heart rate be...
(continues)
...
He doesn’t move when I call his name, so I walk toward him and gently lay my hand on his
shoulder to shake him awake. The second my fingers squeeze his shoulder, he gasps and sits up
straight as if I just woke him from the middle of a dream.
Or a nightmare.
Immediately, he slides off the stool and onto very unstable legs. He begins to sway, so I throw his
arm over my shoulder and try to walk him out of the kitchen.
“Let’s go to the couch, buddy.”
He drops his forehead to the side of my head and stumbles along with me, making it even harder to
hold him up. “My name isn’t Buddy,” he slurs. “It’s Miles.”
We make it to the front of the couch, and I start to peel him off me. “Okay, Miles. Whoever you are.
Just go to sleep.”
He falls on...
(continues)
shoulder to shake him awake. The second my fingers squeeze his shoulder, he gasps and sits up
straight as if I just woke him from the middle of a dream.
Or a nightmare.
Immediately, he slides off the stool and onto very unstable legs. He begins to sway, so I throw his
arm over my shoulder and try to walk him out of the kitchen.
“Let’s go to the couch, buddy.”
He drops his forehead to the side of my head and stumbles along with me, making it even harder to
hold him up. “My name isn’t Buddy,” he slurs. “It’s Miles.”
We make it to the front of the couch, and I start to peel him off me. “Okay, Miles. Whoever you are.
Just go to sleep.”
He falls on...
(continues)
...
“My name isn’t Rachel,” I say, freeing myself from his iron grip. “It’s Tate.” I don’t know why I
clarify what my name is, because it’s not likely he’ll remember this conversation tomorrow. I walk to
where the throw pillow is and pick it up off the floor.
I pause before handing it back to him, because he’s on his side now, and his face is pressed into the
couch cushion. He’s gripping the couch so tightly his knuckles are white. At first, I think he’s about to
get sick, but then I realize how incredibly wrong I am.
He’s not sick.
He’s crying.
Hard.
So hard he isn’t even making a sound.
I don’t even know the guy, but the obvious devastation he’s experiencing is difficult to witness. I
look down the hallway and back to him, wondering...
(continues)
clarify what my name is, because it’s not likely he’ll remember this conversation tomorrow. I walk to
where the throw pillow is and pick it up off the floor.
I pause before handing it back to him, because he’s on his side now, and his face is pressed into the
couch cushion. He’s gripping the couch so tightly his knuckles are white. At first, I think he’s about to
get sick, but then I realize how incredibly wrong I am.
He’s not sick.
He’s crying.
Hard.
So hard he isn’t even making a sound.
I don’t even know the guy, but the obvious devastation he’s experiencing is difficult to witness. I
look down the hallway and back to him, wondering...
(continues)
...
Six years earlier
I open the door to the administration office and walk the roll sheet to the secretary’s desk. Before I
turn and head back to class, she stops me with a question. “You’re in Mr. Clayton’s senior English
class, aren’t you, Miles?”
“Yep,” I reply to Mrs. Borden. “Need me to take something to him?”
The phone on her desk rings, and she nods, picking up the receiver. She covers it with her hand.
“Wait around another minute or two,” she says, nodding her head in the direction of the principal’s
office. “We’ve got a new student who just enrolled, and she also has Mr. Clayton this period. I need
you to show her to the classroom.”
I agree and plop down into one of the chairs next to the door. I look around the administration...
(continues)
I open the door to the administration office and walk the roll sheet to the secretary’s desk. Before I
turn and head back to class, she stops me with a question. “You’re in Mr. Clayton’s senior English
class, aren’t you, Miles?”
“Yep,” I reply to Mrs. Borden. “Need me to take something to him?”
The phone on her desk rings, and she nods, picking up the receiver. She covers it with her hand.
“Wait around another minute or two,” she says, nodding her head in the direction of the principal’s
office. “We’ve got a new student who just enrolled, and she also has Mr. Clayton this period. I need
you to show her to the classroom.”
I agree and plop down into one of the chairs next to the door. I look around the administration...
(continues)
...
homework late this year.
I’m pathetic.
The door to the principal’s office opens, so I close my phone. I slide it into my pocket and look up.
I never want to look down again.
“Miles is going to show you the way to Mr. Clayton’s class, Rachel.” Mrs. Borden points Rachel in
my direction, and she begins to walk toward me.
I instantly become aware of my legs and their inability to stand.
My mouth forgets how to speak.
My arms forget how to reach out to introduce the person they’re attached to.
My heart forgets to wait and get to know a girl before it starts to claw its way out of my chest to get
to her.
Rachel.
Rachel.
Rachel, Rachel, Rachel.
She’s like poetry.
Like prose and love letters and lyrics, cascading down
the
center
of...
(continues)
I’m pathetic.
The door to the principal’s office opens, so I close my phone. I slide it into my pocket and look up.
I never want to look down again.
“Miles is going to show you the way to Mr. Clayton’s class, Rachel.” Mrs. Borden points Rachel in
my direction, and she begins to walk toward me.
I instantly become aware of my legs and their inability to stand.
My mouth forgets how to speak.
My arms forget how to reach out to introduce the person they’re attached to.
My heart forgets to wait and get to know a girl before it starts to claw its way out of my chest to get
to her.
Rachel.
Rachel.
Rachel, Rachel, Rachel.
She’s like poetry.
Like prose and love letters and lyrics, cascading down
the
center
of...
(continues)
...
I’m gonna fall in love with you, Rachel.
Her smile makes me want to keep talking, so I ask her another
question as we pass Mr. Clayton’s room.
We keep walking.
She keeps talking, because I keep asking her questions.
She nods some.
She answers some.
She sings some.
Or it sounds that way.
We get to the end of the hallway, right when she says
something about how she hopes she likes this school because
she wasn’t ready to move away from Phoenix.
She doesn’t look happy about the move.
She doesn’t know how happy I am about the move.
“Where’s Mr. Clayton’s classroom?” she asks.
I stare at the mouth that just delivered that question. Her
lips aren’t symmetrical. Her top lip is slightly thinner than
her bottom lip, but you can’t tell...
(continues)
Her smile makes me want to keep talking, so I ask her another
question as we pass Mr. Clayton’s room.
We keep walking.
She keeps talking, because I keep asking her questions.
She nods some.
She answers some.
She sings some.
Or it sounds that way.
We get to the end of the hallway, right when she says
something about how she hopes she likes this school because
she wasn’t ready to move away from Phoenix.
She doesn’t look happy about the move.
She doesn’t know how happy I am about the move.
“Where’s Mr. Clayton’s classroom?” she asks.
I stare at the mouth that just delivered that question. Her
lips aren’t symmetrical. Her top lip is slightly thinner than
her bottom lip, but you can’t tell...
(continues)
...
I send the picture in a message to Ian that says, “She’s gonna
have all my babies.”
Mr. Clayton begins class.
Miles Archer becomes obsessed.
• • •
I met Rachel on Monday.
It’s Friday.
I’ve said nothing to her since the day we met. I don’t know
why. We have three classes together. Every time I see her, she
smiles at me like she wants me to talk to her. Every time I work
up the courage, I talk myself down.
I used to be confident.
Then Rachel happened.
I gave myself until today. If I didn’t work up the courage by
today, I’d be giving up my only shot with her. Girls like Rachel
aren’t available for long.
If she’s even available.
I don’t know her story or if she’s wrapped up in a guy back in
Phoenix, but there’s only one way to ...
(continues)
have all my babies.”
Mr. Clayton begins class.
Miles Archer becomes obsessed.
• • •
I met Rachel on Monday.
It’s Friday.
I’ve said nothing to her since the day we met. I don’t know
why. We have three classes together. Every time I see her, she
smiles at me like she wants me to talk to her. Every time I work
up the courage, I talk myself down.
I used to be confident.
Then Rachel happened.
I gave myself until today. If I didn’t work up the courage by
today, I’d be giving up my only shot with her. Girls like Rachel
aren’t available for long.
If she’s even available.
I don’t know her story or if she’s wrapped up in a guy back in
Phoenix, but there’s only one way to ...
(continues)
...
“I’m not busy tomorrow, though,” she says, obliterating the
wall with her words.
I make room for those words. Lots of room. I let them invade
me. I soak those words up like a sponge. I pluck them out of
the air and swallow them.
“Tomorrow works for me,” I say. I pull my phone out of my
pocket, not even bothering to hide my smile. “What’s your
number? I’ll call you.”
She tells me her number.
She’s excited.
She’s excited.
I save her contact in my phone, knowing it’ll be there for a
long, long time.
And I’m gonna use it.
A lot.
wall with her words.
I make room for those words. Lots of room. I let them invade
me. I soak those words up like a sponge. I pluck them out of
the air and swallow them.
“Tomorrow works for me,” I say. I pull my phone out of my
pocket, not even bothering to hide my smile. “What’s your
number? I’ll call you.”
She tells me her number.
She’s excited.
She’s excited.
I save her contact in my phone, knowing it’ll be there for a
long, long time.
And I’m gonna use it.
A lot.
...
This forum is closed.
