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)
“No,” I whispered. “You just needed someone to hate.”
“Audrey—”
“Taylor—”
“I meant what I said about you being my only real friend,” he said, voice rough. “And I know I was yours. I didn’t want to throw that away.”
My throat burned. “We threw it away two years ago. We weren’t even on track to speak again before this program.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Yours.” I grabbed my jacket from the back of the couch, the fabric shaking in my hands. “I need to breathe. Don’t fucking follow me.”
The door slammed behind me, but his voice still echoed in my head long after I hit the stairwell—low, breaking, and full of every truth I hadn’t been ready to hear.
BULLY YEARS: SOPHOMORE YEAR
AUDREY
Welcome to your second year of college!
We’re excited to have you as a transfer student and we hope you’ll love your new home at our university!
Sincerely,
The Honors Dorm Leaders
Outside my window, laughter and loud music from a party drifted across the quad, daring me to look. I didn’t bother.
My sophomore year was off to a failed start, and it felt like a rerun of my worst days at my previous school—No, of high school.
Too restless to close my eyes, I picked up my phone and scrolled through social media. I lasted five minutes before tossing it aside and wandering the empty halls, the hum of fluorescent lights keeping me company.
Every corner of the campus reminded me of somewhere I’d already been—some version of myself I thought I’d outgrown but hadn’t. And every time my mind tried to fill the quiet, it reached for the same name.
Before I knew it, I was dialing Taylor’s number by heart.
It rang once.
It rang twice.
“Hello, Audrey,” he answered, voice deep and sleepy.
“Hi.”
Silence.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“No.”
“Okay…” His low laughter sent a flutter through my chest. “Then why are you calling me?”
“This was a butt dial. Sorry, I’ll—”
“Wait.” He stopped me before I could hang up. “How are you these days?”
“Amazing,” I lied. “College is everything I wanted it to be and more. You?”
“I’ve been better. Do you like Iowa?”
“Yeah. Do you like New York?”
“Not really…”
The silence hung between us until I finally burned through it with the truth.
“To be honest,” I said, “I haven’t done much since I flew in and set up my dorm room. Unless I can count taking a walk around campus tonight.”
“You went for a walk at one in the morning?”
“Parties are still going on. I’m guessing this place never sleeps.”
“More like there’s nothing else to do in fucking Iowa.”
I tried to hold back a laugh, but it slipped out anyway.
“That’s probably it,” I said. “Why are you up this late? Eight a.m. class?”
“Hell no. I’m not suicidal.” He chuckled. “I joined a running club. We meet in an hour.”
“Oh. Well, I hope you enjoy that. Bye.”
“Stay on the phone with me, Audrey,” he said, his voice softer, almost pleading. “Let’s catch up.”
“Why?”
“Because you want to.”
“Not really.”
His laughter deepened, rough and warm. “Okay, fine. Would you rather write me an email or a letter?”
“Yes, actually.”
“I’ll give you my address.”
“Will you write back?”
“Always.”
BULLY YEARS: JUNIOR YEAR
AUDREY
Jeremiah Wolff is currently in heaven looking over his two sons, newborn daughter, and second wife, Lily Norman.
Iflipped over the program and held back a sigh.
It was just like Taylor to send me something last minute for critique, but I hadn’t expected this.
I also didn’t have a single note.
Taking several deep breaths, I stepped out of the car and walked up the pathway to his apartment.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The only answer was the wind.
I knocked louder, but the response was the same.
Twisting the doorknob, I pushed it open, and the door creaked as it gave way. The lights were all off, but somewhere in the silence, the soft clacking of a keyboard echoed off the walls.
I followed the sound up the stairs and into the first room on the left.
Dressed in his high school letterman jacket, Taylor sat on the window’s edge, a laptop balanced against his knees.
“Hey there…” I said softly. “I got your email this morning.”
“You could’ve responded.” His voice was rough. “That would’ve been quicker than coming here.”
“I thought you could use a friend.”
“Then you really shouldn’t have come.” His eyes met mine—red-rimmed, swollen. “Any corrections or suggestions?”
“No… It was very sweet. And well done.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to sit through his funeral.”
“That’s understandable… no one will judge you.”
“I’m going to the wake, though,” he said quietly. “But I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.”
I nodded, unsure of what to say.
He closed the laptop and tossed it onto the bed, then stood up.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Audrey, because I’ll deny it for the rest of my life, but…” He looked me up and down. “You look really fucking beautiful today.”
“Thank you.”
We stood staring at each other in the silence, the moment too heavy for words to pierce through it.