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)
I walked down the hall to the master bathroom and then peered into both of the fully furnished bedrooms. One was decked out in light gray, while the other was covered in Audrey’s favorite color: mint green.
Why the fuck do I even remember that?
I left the suite and decided to come back in the morning after getting my head checked.
This better be a different fucking Audrey Parker...
TRACK 2. YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN, KID (3:19)
AUDREY
“Come on, come on, come onnnn!” I refreshed my inbox for the umpteenth time, but my email inbox remained the same.
No new messages. No delivery alerts. No acceptance message from the Postscript Scholars Program.
Sighing, I put my phone away and stepped out of the bathroom stall.
Walking over to the mirror, I stared at my reflection as the walls pulsated with the dance floor’s music.
My glittery gray eyeshadow was layered too thick for tears to fall through.
Tonight was my celebration night for being valedictorian of my university, for being the first person in our campus history to be named as a Fulbright, Rhodes, and Embassy scholar, but the one I’d been dreaming of for years was still ghosting me.
Maybe my admissions essays weren’t strong enough…
“No, that can’t be…” I muttered to myself, tearing a tissue from the box. “Maybe it’s just not meant to be.”
“What the hell are you doing in here, Audrey?” My cousin Cecelia burst into the bathroom. “It’s been twenty minutes!”
“Nothing, I was just…” I feigned a smile. “I was just thinking about some things.”
“What a coincidence.” She moved closer to me. “I was thinking about some things, too. Mainly, like how freakin’ lame you are.”
“Thank you, Cece.”
“You were checking your email in here, weren’t you?”
“No, I was not. I was just thinking like I said.”
“Give me your phone.” She held out her hand.
“I left it out there on our table.”
“Bullshit, Audrey.” She narrowed her eyes. “Give me your goddamn phone.”
I stared at her, weighing my options. I could knock her down and get out of this club within ten seconds, and then I’d be free to spend my night how I wanted: in pajamas, with my constant refreshing only bothering my kitten and no one else.
Before I could consider making a run for it, I remembered that she drove us here.
“Don’t make me hurt you, Audrey.” She wiggled her fingers. “Now.”
“Okay, fine.” I handed it over. “I was just, you know, checking before I sent in my intention letter for nursing school.”
“You’re still waffling on that?” She tucked my phone into her purse. “I thought the plan was clear: gap year to enjoy life, and then nursing school because the starving-author life isn’t for you.”
“Gap year” only if I didn’t get into the program. “Yeah, that’s the plan.”
“Well, please stick to it and stop keeping everyone waiting to celebrate you.”
I nodded and followed her out into the club. Strobe lights and heavy bass greeted me, making me remember exactly why I’d avoided clubs as much as possible during my undergraduate years.
As we approached the booth where five of my classmates were standing, Cecelia lifted a glass of wine.
“Okay, now… Cheers to Audrey—for all four years on the dean’s list!”
They cheered, and I smiled.
“And for getting into every single graduate program she applied to!”
Almost every graduate program… I stared at my wine.
“Raise your damn glass, Audrey.”
“Shouldn’t you amend the toast first?” I asked. “I don’t want to celebrate a fake achievement.”
“I swear on everything,” she whispered under her breath, “don’t make me fucking hurt you in front of your fellow nerds…”
I immediately lifted my glass.
“Now, like I was saying—” She looked around our circle. “Congratulations to the best writer we’ve ever known!”
They cheered, and I took a large gulp.
“What the hell?” I spat it out, coughing as the alcohol scorched down my throat. “What type of wine is this, Cece?”
“Wine?” She arched a brow. “It’s Everclear, silly. We can’t turn up for a night out on wine.”
I shook my head, coughing up the rest.
She signaled for the waiter, and he immediately ran up to us.
“How may I help you ladies tonight?” he asked.
“Can we get something that’ll help this one relax and enjoy her night, please?”
“Something to drink or… something private?” He winked at me.
“Something to drink,” I said. “Preferably something that won’t kill me.”
“I got you.” He smiled at me before disappearing, and Cecelia shook her head.
“He was flirting with you,” she said. “You were supposed to say, ‘The latter. Where should I meet you?’”
“And if he’d said ‘my place’?”
“You would’ve let him dick you down, and then you would’ve told me all about it.”
“You’re the most immature person I know.”
“I’m very proud of that honor.” She laughed, and for the first time this week, I laughed, too.
The waiter returned with peach mimosas, and I managed to last until the final song without thinking about my cell phone.