Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“Hell no. I’d much rather be here with you, another mathlete, celebrating you making the finals tomorrow.”
Her breathing hitches. Her cheeks turn pink. “Okay,” she squeaks out, batting her eyelashes in the cutest way imaginable. “Oh! I brought you something!”
“Really? I brought you something, too.”
“You did not.”
“No, really.” I motion toward the coffee table on the other side of the lobby. “It’s over there. Come on.”
Blushing, Chelsea follows me across the lobby toward the couch. And when we get there, even before we sit down, I grab the long-stemmed red rose, the one I meticulously picked out at a florist down the street, and present it to her.
“For me?” She clutches her heart with one hand as she takes the flower with the other.
I nod shyly. “I asked for the ribbons to be your school’s colors.”
“Oh my gosh. Wow, Luca.”
“I figured if you advanced to the finals today, this rose would be in celebration of that, and if you didn’t, then it’d be to console you.”
Chelsea smells the rose daintily, and as her chest expands with her deep inhale, my eyes involuntarily drift to the tiniest hint of cleavage peeking out of her formfitting shirt. Damn.
“I feel embarrassed about my gift now,” she says. “It’s not nearly as good as yours.”
“Whatever it is, I’ll love it.”
“It’s a gag gift, basically.”
“Great, because I love gag gifts.”
Biting her lip, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a plastic “gold medal” on a ribbon—the sort of thing placed around the necks of elementary school kids on field day.
“Best gift ever,” I say.
“No, it’s silly.”
“It’s awesome.”
“You said you’d be there in spirit today, so I wanted you to share in our victory. Especially because this morning you unwittingly supplied the answer that clinched the finals for us.”
I feel electrified. “No way. Seriously? The winning answer was ‘the limit does not exist’?”
“No, no. It was, ‘The proof of alcohol needed to make a sorority girl barf.’”
I burst out laughing at her deadpan delivery. Man, this girl is hilarious. The kind of funny that only happens when someone is wickedly smart.
I look at the medal in my hand. “Why do I feel like I’m the Scarecrow and this medal is the Wizard’s way of giving me a brain?”
She laughs. “Not at all. I saw it and instantly thought of you. Didn’t you say your position on the field has the word ‘rush’ in it?”
I look at the medal again and realize what she’s referring to. Rushmore Engineering. That’s what’s stamped across the front of the medal.
“They were the event sponsor today,” Chelsea explains. “But let’s pretend it says ‘MVP.’”
I slip the medal’s ribbon over my head and the smile Chelsea beams at me when it’s in place is nothing short of breathtaking. I know she got this thing for me as a joke—because I said I’d be there with her in spirit today and the word “rush” is stamped on it—but I feel like that word applies to this situation for another reason: because being in the presence of this amazing girl makes me feel a rush like nothing I’ve felt before.
“Is that bag yours?” she asks, pointing to the white plastic bag sitting on the coffee table.
“Yeah. Oh, fuck! The ice cream!” I reach inside the bag and squeeze one of the room-temperature pints, and it’s immediately clear its contents have liquified. “The patient’s flatlined, doctor,” I report. I look at my watch. “Time of death: eight twenty-two.”
“I’m so sorry,” Chelsea says. “This is all my fault for being late.”
“No, it was stupid of me to get ice cream when I knew my plan was to come down here early. I was just excited to show you a really good time, even if we only stayed in the lobby.”
“Forget I ever said that. Let’s go out and get some ice cream, Luca.”
I perk up. “Seriously? The ice cream place is only a few blocks from here, so it won’t take long.”
“We don’t have to hurry. Let’s just relax and have a good time.”
Holy shit. I didn’t see this coming. What changed? Could it be she’s feeling what I’m feeling? I rise excitedly as Chelsea does the same, and then I quickly start taking off my jacket to give to her.
“No, no,” Chelsea says when she realizes my intention. “I’ll just run upstairs real quick and—”
“I never get cold,” I assure her. “Plus, our time is limited, and I don’t want to miss out on a single minute with you.” Seriously now. What the hell am I doing? I’m never a dork like this with girls.
Chelsea blushes a deep shade of crimson as she takes the jacket I’m holding out. “Only if you’re sure you won’t need it.”
“I’m positive. I’m hot-blooded, baby.”
Luckily, she giggles at my comment rather than looking put off. And as I help her get the coat on, I suddenly feel like a prince in a fairy tale.