Progress (Progress #1)
“ No longer could I wait to explain to Charlie all the things that had gone through my head, but time was imminent. Who knew how long I’d be in the Whirl, or how long I’d be in the depression afterward? But if my past was any indicator, it would be weeks—if not months—before I’d see myself in a state I considered normal.
Regardless of how much I rationalized not seeing Charlie that night, my hand still found its way to my keys. My keys still found their way to my ignition. And my foot still found the pedals to bring me to the restaurant.
But my mind was a mess, teetering on some kind of brink of desperation, remorse, and optimism. An optimism that Charlie seemed to make viral. Because as I pummeled my way through the front doors, my eyes sought out every strand of red hair in the place, spotting her by the takeout side of the kitchen countertop.
Carrying nothing but a dozen crumpled pieces of paper in my hands, I walked quickly to the expo line, approaching her from behind.
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