Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 51243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
“Um, no…”
“It’s bad enough that I have to share a suite with him and he refuses to buy a condo of his own with all that money he has, but I swear to God—” I was talking so fast I could barely breathe. “Between you, his girlfriend, the professors, and now my mentee, I’m going to lose it if I hear anything else about him today.”
The line went silent.
“You still there, Cece?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m here…”
“Well, why aren’t you saying anything?”
“I’m just putting two and two together.” There was a smile in her voice. “And you literally just told me not to say something, so…”
“I was being dramatic.” I waved a hand. “Say something.”
Silence.
“I’m serious, Cece.”
“I would, but I honestly don’t know how to say ‘you’re so fucked’ in a prettier way.”
TRACK 15. THE ARCHER (4:32)
TAYLOR
“Yes, I’ll be on the sidelines for the preseason game next Thursday, Coach.” I stepped out of my car on Friday evening, my phone pressed to my ear. “You don’t have to keep calling to double-check.”
“Have you memorized the first twenty pages of plays?”
“I’m on page eighty.”
“Well, excellent…” He hesitated. “And your wrist? How is it feeling this week?”
It’s still fucking fractured. “It’s feeling better.”
“Okay, good, good. Talk to you later, son.”
Much later. “Goodbye, Coach.”
I stuffed my phone into my pocket and eyed the thick bandage on my hand.
Take your time healing, please…
“Hey, Taylor?” A guy from my poetry class approached as I opened the door to the residence.
“Yeah?”
“Please don’t hate me for asking you this while you’re here, but, um…” He pulled out his phone. “Can I get a selfie with you? My mom is a huge Bears fan and she lost her shit when I told her you were here.”
“No problem.” I smiled for the photo.
“Oh, and can you sign these things, too?” He pulled two jerseys and a hat from his bag.
I nodded and took out a Sharpie.
“Thanks so much, man! Appreciate it!”
“Anytime.”
Before I could turn away, someone else called my name.
“Wait!” Another guy approached me with a hat, and I noticed a few other people moving behind him. “Can you sign these and give me a selfie, too?”
I smiled and obliged, and before I knew it, I was signing and smiling for my fellow classmates for over an hour.
So much for not being football fans…
By the time I made it upstairs, I was ready to crash in silence for the rest of the night.
As I approached the door, red and silver heart-shaped balloons floated toward me from the handle.
There was a bouquet of white roses standing on the floor beneath them.
Audrey has a boyfriend?
I picked them up to move them out of the way, but a gold-embossed tag caught my eye.
My Sweet Audrey,
I miss you, and I swear I never meant to cheat on you.
I’ll own up to every time if you take me back and promise never to do it again.
Love, Craig.
Unsure if this was some type of inside joke, I carried everything inside and set it on the counter.
Audrey was at the table, typing, pretending not to notice me until I placed the flowers right in front of her.
She skimmed the card, rolled her eyes, and popped the balloons one by one. Then she tore the golden tag in half and tossed it into the trash.
“That’s not a good way to show appreciation for a gift,” I said.
She looked over at me but didn’t say anything. Instead, she grabbed an ice pack from the fridge and held it against her shoulder.
Wincing, she let out a few short breaths, and I suddenly remembered how she sprained that same shoulder when she fell out of the window years ago trying to sneak out.
I wondered if it ever completely healed, but I refused to ask.
I decided to go with a softer approach.
“How else would Craig know he can keep cheating on you if you don’t thank him, Audrey?”
“You read my personal card?” She narrowed her eyes. “Seriously?”
“I don’t think you’re in any position to talk about reading someone’s personal things.”
She bit her lip.
“You’ve always had questionable taste in men,” I said. “Have any of your therapists ever mentioned that?”
“I actually met someone I like here today,” she said. “He’s coming over this weekend to hang out.”
“What’s his name?”
“You’ll see him when he gets here.”
“Didn’t we just agree that we weren’t having dates over?” I crossed my arms. “I have to meet Stacey at her place, and that’s fair, right?”
“She was just here the other night.”
“She was waiting on me so we could leave.”
“She seems unstable. That’s not your type.”
“I don’t have a type,” I said. “And you still suck at deflecting and changing subjects. No company over here, ever.”
She shrugged. “I was thinking we should revisit that rule soon.”
“We shouldn’t.” I glared at her. “No guys here for you. No girls here for me. That’s the deal.”