Boston by Alexis Alvarez Read Free Book Online Page B

perfection. I was up writing until two a.m., and I can’t start my day without something to get my blood going, and something to save for that narcoleptic afternoon slump that hits around three p.m. I have a huge Frappuccino too, with whipped cream and caramel, and it’s delicious and it does what it’s supposed to. I suck half of it down in the car, feeling the instant hit in my veins. Ever since I started writing full time last year I’ve become more reliant on fast food and treats, but writing is such a rush that I never seem to want to take the time to prepare a meal from scratch. The computer is a siren, a lure. I’m addicted to my work and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep the words coming, to allow my fingers to find their natural home on the keyboard.
    Honestly, I need the sugar as a distraction, too. I eat when I’m nervous sometimes, and after my little tease-o-rama yesterday, I’m not sure what’s going to happen today. I don’t like the way my pants have been a little tighter these past months, but I swear, I’m going to get back into running just as soon as this project is finished.
    Boston frowns when he sees my plastic cup and colorful bag. “I told you I’d make coffee and something healthy.”
    “Oh, live a little,” I challenge. I pick up a cake donut sprinkled with white sugar and take a bite, licking my lips to get all the sweetness. “It’s soooo good.”
    A muscle clenches in his jaw. He goes into the kitchen and comes out with a tall glass of some thick green liquid that looks like someone put grass clippings and swamp water in a blender on low.
    “Here.” He plucks the donut from my fingers and tosses it back into the bag, and wraps my hand around the glass. “Taste this. One sip and you’ll realize what you really want for fuel.”
    I eye the glass with misgivings, although I like the feel of his fingers arranging mine. “This is regurgitated cud. I’m not a cow.”
    “It’s a veggie and fruit shake, Abby, and it’s got so many nutrients that you’ll go insane. One mouthful.”
    One mouthful… one mouthful. My mind goes off in a thousand directions, but I dutifully put the glass to my mouth and take a small sip. It tastes like fields and alfalfa and sunlight and green; it’s not horrible. But neither is it what I’d call “delicious.” I wrinkle my nose and hand the glass back. “I did one. Give me back my donut.”
    He rolls his eyes. “Abby, every single thing you put into your mouth is either fighting disease or feeding it. Think about that when you eat your ring of grease. I hope diabetes doesn’t run in your family.” He chuckles, but I feel my eyes swell.
    It takes a few seconds, but he notices. “Abby? What is it?”
    I feel a tear squeezing out. “Nothing.”
    “It’s clearly not nothing. Shit, did I hurt your feelings? What I said about the food?” He sounds incredulous. “Seriously?” He blows out a breath.
    I shake my head. “Something else. Forget about it.”
    He comes closer. “I don’t like to make girls cry. Come on. Tell me.” He sounds kind but demanding, and his tone makes my stomach lurch despite the topic.
    “My mom had diabetes before she died. It wasn’t the reason, but she had a lot of complications.”
    He folds me into his strong chest, holding one hand against the back of my head, stroking my hair. “Aw, Abby, I’m sorry. How long ago?”
    I swallow. “Twelve years ago. And every single moment of every day since.” His arms feel good.
    “Oh, man. I really messed up, then. Abby, I just—I love teaching people about fitness, okay? It’s one of the few—I mean, I’m good at it and I like helping. I’m not trying to upset you. I’m sorry about your mom. My mom died when I was a kid, too. I get it.”
    I shake my head. “You didn’t know. It’s okay. And I just, I just miss her, you know?”
    He strokes my hair. “Yeah. I know.” The doorbell rings and he lets go of me. “That’s gonna be Chelle.”
    I suck in a