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The Perfect Pitch

By bubblewrappedkitty

Drama / Humor

The Perfect Pitch

"So he's really coming back this weekend?" Tina asked in awe, leaning forward to talk over my shoulder. "Wow. Are you excited?"

"Of course," I replied. "It's been two years. Is it weird that I'm nervous?"

"I don't think so," Tina said thoughtfully. "I mean, it has been two years."

"Yeah I think that's been established, Tee," I pointed out and shook my head. Tina whacked me in the back of the head playfully and laughed. "But I don't know why I'm so nervous. He's just my brother."

"Don't ask me, I don't have any brothers," Tina said.

"You know you're not being very helpful."

We stopped at the corner where we go our separate ways. When Tina straightened up I handed her books to her and she takes them gratefully. "Sorry, but when it comes to family stuff I'm usually not," she said glumly. I gave her a sympathetic look but she just shrugged. "Have fun with your brother. I'll call you tomorrow about that science homework."

"Alright, later." Tina bent down to give me a hug and then placed a quick kiss on my cheek. I tried not to look completely dumb-struck when she straightened up, smiling shyly.

"For luck," she said and then waved, turned onto her street, and walked away. I tried not to watch her go too attentively. Things between Tina and I had been on a rollercoaster of sorts lately, what with us finally going on our first date, then the whole stutter truth thing, and then getting back into being friends again. I had always known the sparks hadn't gone away, but this only sent them flying through the roof. As if I didn't have enough on my mind already.

I rolled the last block to my house and saw that the driveway was empty, meaning neither of my parents were home from work yet. Looking forward to the alone time to practice my guitar without bothering anyone, I pushed myself up the ramp to the front door and went inside.

The front door had barely closed behind me when there was suddenly a loud explosion of bright yellow erupted from the living room doorway. It took a minute for my shock to subside enough to realize the explosion was actually a person; six feet of lean muscle in a neon yellow tee-shirt and expertly ripped jeans. He was tanned and wore his brown hair short, but there was no mistaking the wide blue eyes or familiar smile because they looked just like the ones I saw in the mirror.


"Little brother!" The next thing I knew, he was hugging me so hard he lifted me from my chair. I laced my hands together behind his back and hung on for dear life; I hate being pulled out of my chair. When you can't feel your legs underneath you, it's pretty unnerving.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as Jack lowered me and helped me get situated in my chair again. I stared up at him in awe. "I thought you weren't supposed to be home till Sunday night."

Jack shrugged, grinning. "I couldn't wait. They squeezed me onto an earlier flight into Cleveland and I hopped a cab. Got here about ten. I wanted to be able to surprise everyone. Surprise!"

"That plan was a success," I admitted. I leaned back to get a better look at him. Two years had changed my brother a lot. He had slimmed out, the bulked up muscles he'd had before becoming leaner. He had gotten really tan and freckled, and his cheeks looked burnt. His glasses were now gone, and his nose looked like it may have been broken a time or two. In the end though, it just made him look even cooler. Which is not something he'd needed help with to begin with.

"I can't believe how much you've grown since I left," Jack said.

"Three inches," I said proudly. "Now I'm only four inches shorter than you."

Jack laughed. "Keep dreaming, Shorty, you're never gonna make it," he teased. "But hey, I got a surprise for you." He disappeared into the living room again and when he came back he tossed a mound of brown at me. I was already smiling when I caught it, knowing what it was; a baseball glove. "Whaddya say, should we see if you still got that Cy Young arm?"

"Oh I've got it," I assured him. "At any rate, I'm still better than you." Jack laughed again.

"Oh-ho, someone's cocky," he said, flexing his own glove between his hands. "Well then bring it on." We went back out into the front yard and I parked my chair in the driveway while Jack stood in the middle of the grass. I tugged off my fingerless gloves and tucked them beneath my thigh, and then pulled on the baseball glove. As I punched the leather into shape, I noticed a band of Asian calligraphy along the edge.

"Chinese?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Japanese," he corrected. "Picked that one up in Tokyo where I taught a bunch of them the right way to play the game. Those are their signatures around the bottom." I laughed and eyed the characters again. For the last two years my brother had been touring the world on an architectural internship study, learning the different styles of architecture used in different countries. "You ready, Shorty?"

I looked up and grinned. "Quit being a pansy and throw the ball already," I said. Jack smirked and then drew back, hurling the ball straight for my head. It was an easy catch and not even that hard. "You still throw like a girl," I inform him.

"Hey, I know you don't play much while I'm gone. I'm going easy, working you back into it," Jack explained. I gave him a skeptical look. "You show me how it's done then."

I checked the lock on my wheels and then readied myself. It really had been a while since I'd thrown a baseball but I wasn't too worried. It's not a skill you forget, and years of pushing yourself around in a wheelchair gives you killer arm muscles. My throw went a little to the left, but it was hard and fast, making a satisfying slap in Jack's glove. He winced, flexing his hand.

"Still the best pitcher in Ohio," he said approvingly. I tried not to look too pleased by that. The novelty should have worn off already, since he'd been calling me that since I was seven, but it hadn't.

"So how is the internship thing?" I asked as he threw the ball back.

"It's great," Jack said. "I wish I could've taken you with us, some of these buildings are absolutely amazing. Especially some of those Asian ones. They may not know how to play baseball, but they can build a wicked building. And once I finish up my papers, I'll be back to normal school. What about you, how's school for you?"

"Same as always," I said and shrugged, leaning to the right to catch the ball. "Classes are boring, the general populace is dominated by the Ice Queen Cheerios and the Neanderthal jocks, and the teachers are blind to the injustices of the system. You know, same ol' same ol'."

Jack smiled indulgently. "They're not, you know, causing you any trouble, are they?" As much as I know he's just being a typical big brother, I can't help but be a little annoyed with him. When we were young he had always stood up for me whenever people picked on his cripple little brother, and it had helped out a lot when I'd still been getting used to being in a wheelchair. Jack had always been popular and no one had wanted to get on his bad side. Of course that balance had shifted when he'd graduated and left for college, but I had adjusted and learned to take care of myself.

"No, I'm fine," I said casually. "If they start acting up, I just run their feet over and break their toes."

"You are good at that," Jack conceded, laughing and toeing the ground with his right foot. "They never did heal quite right." We go back to tossing the ball in silence for a few minutes. "So I saw the new posters in your room," he said and there was a mischievous smile on his face now that makes me nervous. "Avril Lavigne? Really?"

"Tina put it up," I admitted and tried not to blush. "And put it high so I couldn't take it down." There was no way I was telling him that after she'd subjected me to listening to countless Avril Lavigne songs, a few of the ballads had grown on me. He didn't need to know that, and I would never hear the end of it if he did.

"You want me to get it for you?" he asked but his smile had only gotten wider.

I tried to keep my expression as neutral as I could as I shook my head. "Nah, don't bother, she'll just put it back up the next time she comes over," I said. "Or in punishment for taking her poster down she might put up something worse. Like Hannah Montana."

"I don't know how that could be worse," Jack said. "I think that Hannah chick's kinda hot." He laughed at my look of disgust. "So, speaking of Tina, how are things with you two?"

"Fine," I said, losing my battle against the blushing as I thought of the kiss she'd given me less than an hour ago. "Why?"

Jack laughed again. "Sorry that I can't be curious about my brother's life when I haven't seen him in two years," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

"I talked to you in July," I pointed out. "On mom's birthday, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," Jack said. "And I got to talk to you for all of what, twelve minutes? It's been forever, forgive me for being curious. I just thought that maybe something might have, you know, happened between you two. She is kinda cute, in a weird, dark sort of way."

"Do you have a crush on my best friend?" I asked in over-exaggerated awe.

Jack rolled his eyes. "It's times like these where I wonder why Mom calls you the smart one," he tells me in that flat, emotionless tone that I picked up from him. "Alright, fine, you don't want to talk about your secret hots for T-T-Tina. I get it." He was the only person who I would tolerate making fun of Tina's stutter and that was only because I knew he was only trying to provoke me into defending her. I didn't want to explain that she didn't even stutter anymore, at least not at the moment. Those were emotions I didn't want to think about now.

"Yeah, and I really don't want to talk about your secret hots for her," I replied calmly, smiling.

"You know me, I never keep my hots secret," he said and I had to agree there. Jack always had been a bit of a lady's man.

"How are things with that one girl, Judy?" I asked.

"Julie," Jack corrected. "We broke it off about a year ago. She decided she couldn't wait for me to get back. It's okay those, there's this smoking hot Latina in my internship group, and she wants to make me her muy caliente querido."

I snorted. "Querido? I think that might be a bit too tame for what you're thinking of. More like ramera."

"Ramera?" Jack echoed thoughtfully. "Wait, doesn't that mean bit-" He stopped mid-word and laughed. "Arthur Benjamin, I'm surprised at you. Where did you learn a word like that?" I shrugged nonchalantly. He didn't need to know Tina and I spent most of our freshman Spanish class in the back of Mr. Schuester's classroom looking up cuss words in the Spanish-English dictionary. "You know Mom will go postal if she hears you saying words like that, no matter the language."

"I'll just tell her you taught it to me," I said. Jack looked so surprised his hand slipped on the ball and it bounced into the no-man's-land between us.

"You're devious, you know that," he told me as he went and picked it up. When he walked back to the place he'd marked out for himself he settled into his pitching position, rolling the baseball in his palm. It was kind of annoying how much like a baseball star he looked as he stood there and grinned at me cheekily. I hated how he could make standing look cool. I also hated how in my mind I privately equated being able to stand with being cool. That sort of thinking never got me anywhere good.

I tried not to let my resentful feelings crop up again. I love my brother, I really do, but sometimes it was just so hard for me to be around him. I couldn't help but think that if I weren't in the chair I'd be just like him. You know; athletic, popular, cooler. He was everything I wasn't, and everything I secretly wished I was. I always thought I was over these feelings but then little things like this would make them sneak up again. So I masked them, like usual, with dry humor.

"Well I have to get the upper hand somehow," I pointed out and shrugged. "And I know just how much thinking hurts people like you, so I use it to my advantage. It's not hard to outwit someone who misspelled his own career name."

"You know, with that sort of attitude I'm really starting to believe you show those jock jerks what for when they mess with you," Jack said and I didn't miss the hint of pride in his voice. It was always really cool and weird when he sounded like that; I'm not used to people sounding so proud of me and it felt weird coming from the guy I'd looked up to since I was – well – born.

"You do realize you're one of those jock jerks," I said with a grin.

Jack just laughed. "And you constantly show me up, don't you," he replied and shrugged. "Very annoying, by the way."

That admission was so confusing I had to pause and think about. Jack thought I showed him up? How so? He's the super star big brother and me, well, I would be the geeky cripple. Not exactly much of a competition.

Before I could say anything though, Jack looked down the street and laughed. "Looks like the mom-mobile is rolling up," he said. "C'mon, one last pitch before she mauls me." Nodding, I threw a fastball so quick he nearly didn't get his glove up in time. This time he didn't just wince; I heard him breathe, "Ouch." Then he smiled as wide as if he'd just pitched a no-hitter against Babe Ruth himself.

"Nice one," he said as he came to push me up to the ramp and out of the way of Mom's car pulling into the drive. "You know what, wheels or no wheels, I think you could give Cy Young a real run for his money."

I was so stunned I looked up at him but he just smiled and then turned to Mom's shout. I watched her throw herself into his arms enthusiastically as I pulled on my fingerless gloves, and when he and Mom headed into the house with me he didn't say another word on his unexpected praise.


Later that night we were both holed up in my bedroom, which I share with him when he's home since Dad converted his bedroom into an office after he left for college. Jack is sprawled across the top bunk, chewing on a pencil and working on some "god damn frickin' ridiculous research shit," as he put it before reminding me I couldn't use that sort of language. I was alternating between texting Tina and practicing a new song on the guitar, although I'd kept it unplugged because I didn't want the noise to bother Jack who already looked stressed out as he typed at his laptop frantically.

There was something I'd wanted to tell Jack all day but I hadn't found the right opportunity to work it in yet. I wasn't sure why I was so nervous about it, it wasn't like I was telling him I'd decided to get a sex-change or take up spelunking. For some reason though, presumably because he's my older brother and my psyche is programmed to care, I was really nervous about what he'd think.

I shook my head, deciding that now wasn't the time, and went back to plucking at the strings. I'd gotten pretty good at the chords but I was still surprised when Jack began humming along around the pencil he still had between his teeth (Why he has a pencil when he's working on the computer was beyond me.) He got through twelve bars before he suddenly looked up, his brow furrowed. He turned to look at me, his expression torn between surprise and amusement.

"'Hit the Road Jack?'" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

I laughed and shook my head. "Remember how we used to sing this all the time when we were little?"

"And Mrs. Jepsony used to come out and yell at us if we were singing it too loudly out in the yard," Jack said. He put on a poor attempt at an old woman voice. "You hoodlums quit shouting that infernal rubbish up and down the street, I can't hear my soaps!"

"Yeah. Probably because you're tone-deaf. I was just remembering that the other day and decided I wanted to learn it," I said but judging by the look on Jack's face he knew what I really meant.

"You learned it for me," he said and there was something weird in his voice I'd never heard, sort of like that pride-thing from earlier but stronger and it made me both really pleased and afraid I'd done something wrong.

"Quit being so egocentric," I joked to lighten the mood. "Maybe I just like Ray Charles."

Jack laughed and turned back to his computer. "You always have been a great ego buster."

"Well someone's got to or your head would never fit through the doors," I pointed out and went back to idly strumming. "I'm just looking out for you." The sound of Jack's scribbling stopped and I looked up curiously. He was staring at me with a really odd look in his eyes. It was like part sad, part proud, and part confused, mixed with a whole lot more than I didn't really understand. "What?" I asked self-consciously.

"How come we're so backwards?" Jack asked and his voice was something so close to pleading that it made me kind of scared. "I'm supposed to be the big brother but you do a better job of taking care of me than I do for you."

"That's not true," I interrupted but Jack ignored me and kept going.

"And I'm supposed to be this guy you can look up to, and the one who protects you and keeps you strong and picks you up when you fall. But at the end of the day all I can think is that I wish I was as good a guy as you. You're the brave one and you're the strong one, and you're the inspiring one. It's completely backwards, but it turns out my little brother is my hero."

'Surprise' was a pretty massive understatement for the way I felt then. I could only stare at Jack, my mouth hanging open, and he looked really upset. He pushed aside his computer and sat up, his head bowed because of how close to the ceiling he was, and then buried his face in his hands. It took me a minute of watching him to realize what was happening; tough, cool Jack was crying.

"Jack," I said cautiously. My tongue was dry from my mouth gaping open so I swallowed hard. I heard him clear his throat and he rubbed his hands over his face before lowering them. His eyes were red and he still had a sort of wild look in them, like he might suddenly just bolt out of the door. "I don't see it like that, Jack."

"What other way is there to see it?" Jack asked miserably.

"You did protect me," I said earnestly, really unnerved by how upset he was. "I remember, when I was still in the hospital, Mom couldn't get you to leave. You stopped me from being scared. And when I went back to school and people started treating me like a freak, you stood by me and you defended me. You helped me adjust. You never treated me like I was someone different than I'd been before, and that helped more than you can know."

"And then I went off my own way and followed your dreams and left you alone."

"But now I'm big enough to take care of myself," I said. "No size jokes," I added when Jack looked up at me with a bit of a crooked smile. "You know you're as bad as Mom sometimes," I continued. "I'm sixteen, Jack; I can look out for myself. You were the one to protect me until I was old enough to do it myself. I've found real friends, and a place where I fit in and people actually like me. I've learned, I've adapted, and I am a confident enough person not to be bothered by anything life's chucking at me." And for the first time, as I said it I didn't feel like I was lying.

Jack cleared his throat again and rubbed his palms against his eyes, but when he reemerged he was smiling. "You never cease to amaze me, little brother," he declared.

I shrugged, blushing, and leaned over to put my guitar back into its stand. "So are you going to go back to playing baseball now that you'll be settled in one place again?" I asked, trying to turn the conversation back towards normalcy. Jack instantly looked guilty despite my casual tone and I knew why.

"I actually wanted to talk to you about that, and I guess now's as good a time as any," Jack said and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. (At that moment the irrational thought struck me that that must be where I'd learned that habit from.) "Thing is, while we were in San Francisco I got into a game with a couple of local players, nothing big really. Well it turns out one of the guys' agents was watching and he told me he could promise me a spot with the Giants."

Okay I had not seen that one coming. "You're going to play pro ball?" I asked in awe.

"I haven't given him my answer yet," Jack said, looking more anxious than ever. "I told him I needed to talk to my family about. You, specifically."


"You know why, Artie," Jack said seriously and I nodded. I did know why. As a kid, being a big baseball star had been my passion and dream. And then the car accident happened and that all went out the window. Jack had always felt guilty playing baseball because I was the one who convinced him to start playing, and now he was the big-time star and the best I got was a game of catch in the yard. "I'm not going to do this unless you're okay with it."

"This is professional sports, you can't just pass that sort of thing up," I said in exasperation.

"Yeah, I can," Jack replied firmly. "I can turn around and walk away from it without any regret. I still have my architecture; I've got other choices for my life. But you're my only little brother, and I'm not going to do this if it's going to push you away. We've already grown apart and I don't – I can't push you further away."

I could only stare, again, not really comprehending what he was saying. "You think I'll stop being your brother if you do this?"

Jack laughed but it sounded sort of hysterical. "The only reason I play baseball is because it feels like a connection to you," he said and his voice sounded sort of like he had a head cold. "Ever since the accident we've been growing apart and I know I should have expected that at least a little. With everything you've been through it's only normal you change. But I clung to baseball because it was something we shared, and it was somewhere we could relate and understand each other. It was our thing. I mean, I used to know everything about you and your life, and now I don't know anything. I won't risk alienating you any further just so I can have a couple years of the glory you rightly deserve."

I was quiet for a minute, digesting everything he'd told me. "Jack, we both know you really want to do this," I said. "You'd be crazy not to. What kind of brother would I be if I stopped you? And yeah, maybe I'm a little jealous, but I've accepting that I'm not going to be running bases anytime in my life. I moved on and found other things that I really love." I gestured vaguely at my guitar for emphasis. "I don't even really think about baseball anymore, except that it's our thing. Beyond that, it's a kid dream I grew out of. And I'm okay with that."

As I said it I realized it was true. I missed being an athlete and I did sort of wish I could be like Jack. But at the same time, I liked where I was at now. I had real friends, namely Tina but some of the other Glee kids too, who liked me despite and because of the chair. I loved being a musician, and it felt really good to have that outlet I'd never really given much thought to before the accident. It sucked that it happened to me, but I'd found something new and I realized that, as much as I liked Jack, I liked me too.

Jack looked at me in a way I'd never seen before, like I'd transformed into something really awesome, and I almost looked down to check that I wasn't glowing or something. "Artie, you are undoubtedly the single coolest person I know," he said and I finally recognized his expression; respect.

Really didn't see that one coming. In that moment, I realized I had spent quite a lot of my day blushing. It was an embarrassing thought. "Don't flatter me, there's still one condition on this baseball thing," I said and Jack raised an eyebrow questioningly. "I want a signed copy of your rookie card."

Jack laughed. "Kid, I'll get you any sort of autographs you want," he promised. I laughed along and was hoping that maybe the conversation would be normal again. I caught a glimpse of the really thoughtful look on Jack's face and almost groaned. "Artie?" he asked, looking up and shaking his fringe out of his eyes. "Do you ever wish it was me in the car with Mom instead of you?"

For what must have been the millionth time that day, I was stunned. "What sort of question is that?"

"You can be honest," Jack said, laughing at my expression. "It's not like I'd be mad at you. Sometimes I wish it was me."

I had known he had probably thought this at some time, but to hear it admitted like this was a totally different feeling. I considered for a second before answering. "I don't," I said confidently. Jack looked up in surprise. "No offence, Jack, but I don't know if you could have handled it. Living like this, it's hard. And the only reason I've survived it so well is because I had my big brother looking out for me. If it had been you, you wouldn't have had that."

"No, I'd have had my little brother taking care of me just like he always does," Jack said, grinning.

"Well yeah, but because I'm the little brother I have to do it all sneaky Jedi ninja like," I said and shrugged.

"You are such a nerd." He wiped his hands over his eyes one last time and laughed. "So you said you found a place where you fit in. What sort of social suicide club did you fall into? AV?"

Here it came, moment of truth. Time to confess to my cool jock older brother that I'd solidified my status as a social outcast (as if it wasn't done already) and thrown in my lot with the artistic department. I wasn't sure why I was so nervous to say it, except that I wanted him to approve. "Actually I've joined Glee club."

For a moment it looked like Jack was going to say something along the lines of "That's even worse," but he bit his tongue and nodded. I didn't mind that he was thinking it, because I knew it was sort of true. "Glee club?" he asked as if he needed confirmation. "So you finally decided to do something with that voice of yours?"

I couldn't help the smile that broke out on my face, even though I knew it made me look like a total dork. "It was Tina's idea," I confessed. "Or more we both told each other, 'you audition and I will too.'"

"Tina can sing?" Jack asked in surprise. I'd forgotten for a moment that before Glee Tina hadn't sung in front of anyone but me. "She can't even talk."

"She doesn't stutter anymore," I explain quickly. "Long story but I think it's a confidence thing."

Jack nodded thoughtfully. "But Glee, that's like singing and dancing, isn't it? How do you -?" He didn't finish his question but I knew what he was asking.

"They accommodate for me," I said and I felt a little bit of happiness at that. It was nice to know there were people so willing to go out of their way to include me, after being excluded because of my disability for so long. "Mr. Schue's been really good about working me in. We're even doing a number for Sectionals where the whole team's in wheelchairs."

"That's pretty awesome," Jack agreed. "And Glee club, you really like it?"

I smiled. "Really, I love it." I laughed at something that had just occurred to me and Jack raised his eyebrow. "Guess it turns out there's another place where I'm good at getting the perfect pitch."

Jack laughed, shaking his head. "Lame pun," he informs me. "But I'm happy for you. I'm glad you've found something. I worry about you."

"I've noticed."

"But I guess you're showing me I don't need to," Jack finished. We sat in silence for a moment but for the first time it's not tense and awkward. My mind was still reeling back to when he'd called me his hero and I didn't notice he was watching me until he laughed. "Although the vacant expression is making me worry again," he said. "Daydreaming about any-" cough, "Tina," cough, "-body in particular?"

"Very subtle," I remarked, rolling my eyes. "I told you, we're just friends."

To my misfortune, Jack did not look convinced. "Uh-huh, sure. Honestly, dude, you let her put up a chick poster on your wall. I know you well enough to know you don't let your 'just friends' tack Avril up next to the Beatles." I once again failed at not blushing.

"You're just jealous because I'm such a chick magnet," I said off-handedly, dismissing him. Jack laughed so enthusiastically it should probably have been illegal.

"Yeah, okay, whatever, Shorty," he said when he was finally breathing semi-normally again. "Hey, play me one of your Glee songs."

"Why?" I asked, feeling really self-conscious.

"I wanna hear," Jack said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which I supposed it might have been. "If my little bro's gonna become a big star, I wanna be able to say I'd heard him perform before he was cool." His smile was still in place, but there was something very serious in his eyes and he says, "I just wanna hear. You know, feel like I'm a part of what's going on, like I used to be."

As if anyone could say no to a plea like that. "Alright, fine," I said, acting like I was annoyed. I retrieved my guitar, express-tuned it, and then started strumming out the chords for "Don't Stop Believin'."

I fumbled on a few of the notes at first out of nerves, but at the first chorus Jack joined in (with his really, really pitchy voice; I wasn't kidding when I'd said he was tone-deaf) and all of a sudden I stopped feeling so nervous. It felt just like when we used to sing random old songs in the yard or on the way home from school, back when it didn't matter whether we were good or if anyone could hear us. And by the end, when we were both grinning like idiots, I was pretty sure it was the best performance I'd ever given.

"You'll have to let me know when your shows are," Jack said, panting a little from belting out so loudly I was surprised Mom or Dad hadn't come to check on us. "I want to come watch."

"Actually Sectionals are not this Saturday but the one after, that's sort of our first big competition," I said and Jack whipped out his phone to program it into his calendar. It was weird, how I was all of a sudden not resentful of him in any way anymore. I couldn't explain why or how it happened so fast, but it was like eight years of secret jealousy just vanished. I was happy with who I was and I was happy with him just being my big brother. I looked over at him and said a quiet, "Thanks."

"Anytime, Shorty," he responded, laughing as I rolled my eyes. And in that moment, I was perfectly content with the decisions I'd made. I'd started a new life for myself, away from the lost dreams I'd had, and that life was starting to look pretty good.

Spanish translations:

"muy caliente" - very hot

"querido" - beloved, lover

"ramera" - b**** (sadly I knew this off the top of my head and had to look up the others, lol)

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Jen Lewis: A little slow in the beginning, but once the tide came in, I was caught up in it, and couldn't escape. I read it through without stopping, literally couldn't put it down. Above all, the ending was very satisfying.

viveksaji1990: The novel is altogether a fun read although there are way too many typos and spelling-grammar errors. If those could be corrected, I am willing to give a better rating and also convince people to buy the book if the book gets published. Apart from the typos, its a really fun and slightly romantic...

Ashley Kimler: I love the drama and the darkness of this story. Sadly, I was distracted my editorial errors and couldn't delve into it. The grammar mistakes kept me from being able to forget where I was and immerse in the story. If not for that, I think I would have given this chapter 5 stars. My advice to the ...

Riskaninda Maharani: This story told about love between Christopher Schlösser (a German) and Anggia Selestina (an Indonesian) that happened in Düsseldorf, Germany in an autumn. The German autumn which was so different with the autumn in the other four season countries, especially in Anggia's eyes when her heart-movin...

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