Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
I shrug, not looking at her. “I don’t know. I guess. I don’t follow sports.”
Andie is already at my closet, flipping through the tangle of clothes with her free hand. “The Olive Branch? That’s, like, a wedding proposal. Nobody goes there on a first date unless they’re crazy rich or want to sleep with you really, really bad.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s just dinner. He probably takes all his dates there. We were supposed to go to some swimming party, but I guess he didn’t want all his teammates watching us.”
Andie yanks out a powder blue minidress, then a slinky red top, holding them up for inspection. “You’re underselling this, Simone. You do realize what a big deal this is, right? Dylan Tourneau was on the cover of the alumni magazine last year. His abs have an Instagram account.”
I flop back on my pillow, trying not to think of Liam’s abs, which are less famous but way more interesting. “Why are you so hyped about this? It’s just a date. It doesn’t mean anything.”
She pulls her phone from her back pocket, thumbs furiously, then reads aloud: “Dylan Tourneau. Four-time conference champ, pre-law, family from Wisconsin, no siblings, never been seen with the same girl twice.” She looks up, triumphant. “You’re a unicorn, babe. You are stardust.”
I snort, then let the silence settle in. I want to care, but the only thing I care about is the slow-motion memory of Professor Thomas—how he looked when he told me we were “just having fun,” how he made it clear we weren’t serious. My mouth tastes sour, and I make a face.
Andie drops the phone onto my bed, then sits beside me, legs bouncing like a metronome. “Are you okay, really? You seem, I don’t know, out of it.”
I shrug, then risk the truth. “I just keep thinking about the Professor. Like, is that normal? Shouldn’t I be excited about this date?”
She leans in, her voice low and serious for once. “You had a thing. It was intense. Of course it’ll mess with your head. But Simone, Professor Thomas is not worth throwing your whole college life away for. I mean, that guy is old, whereas you could get a hot jock who’s young.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say, but the words don’t stick.
Andie sips her coffee, then sighs. “You need to get out of your head. Put on something hot, go to dinner, and let Dylan worship you like the goddess you are.”
I stare at the ceiling, counting the little dots in the acoustic tile. “What if I screw it up?”
She laughs, shoving my shoulder. “Impossible. Just don’t talk about Moby Dick, and you’ll be fine.”
I smile, for real this time. “You’re the best, Andie.”
She stands, twirling a golden strand of hair around her finger. “I know. Now, let’s get you ready. What did you wear to your last date?”
“I don’t remember,” I say, because there wasn’t one.
She whistles, low and sweet. “That’s tragic. We’re fixing it.”
She yanks a black tank from the closet, then a pair of dark jeans with strategic rips. “Try these. You can thank me later.”
I take the clothes, but I don’t move to change. I stare at my phone, scrolling back to the text from Dylan. He’s so normal, so clean, so obvious in his intentions. No games, no drama. Just “Looking fwd to Olive Branch 2nite.”
I touch my lips again, remembering the taste of Liam, the heat of his hands, the way he said my name like it was both a punishment and a reward.
Andie is watching me, arms crossed. “You want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. “Not really. I just…I’m not used to this.”
She plops down beside me, squeezing my hand. “It’s going to be fine. You don’t have to marry the guy. Just have fun. If it sucks, you can bail. If it’s great, you get free dessert.”
I laugh, and this time it sticks. The idea of free dessert is more appealing than the idea of being someone’s first or only.
Andie stands, clapping her hands. “Okay. Sit up straight. I’ll do your hair, and then we can pick out an outfit. Forget the jeans and tank top. We need to go sexy.”
I move to the mirror, but my reflection is a stranger—eyes too wide, hair a mess, lips swollen from last night’s crying jag. For a second I feel like I could be anyone, anywhere, someone whose whole body isn’t haunted by a forbidden crush on a brooding older man.
Andie brushes my hair, quick and efficient, twisting it into a high ponytail, then stands back to admire her handiwork. “You’re a bombshell. That boy won’t know what hit him.”
I glance at myself in the mirror, unsure.
“You got this,” she whispers, squeezing my shoulders.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
When she leaves to borrow something or other from a neighbor, I sit on the edge of my bed, hands shaking. I scroll to Liam’s number in my phone, stare at the empty text box, and then, for the first time all day, type something.