Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
“I broke up with Drew.”
“Drew?” She blinks. “Who’s Drew?”
I laugh weakly. “The guy I was dating.”
“Ohh. The one from the hospital? Right, right. I don’t know why I thought his name was Chad. Cassie is always calling him that.”
I half laugh, half sigh, but before I can say anything else, a familiar voice cuts through the chaos.
“You broke up with Chad?”
Cassie Kelly has her camera slung around her neck and is walking over, hair up in a messy bun, oversized sunglasses perched on her head like a crown. Behind her, the celebrity being photographed is literally waiting. But Cassie’s focused entirely on me.
“Drew,” I correct on a sigh. “His name was Drew.”
Cassie waves a hand. “Whatever. It’s about fucking time.”
My mom’s eyes go wide. “Cassie!”
“Don’t act surprised. That boy had placeholder energy.” Cassie shrugs. “Tell me I’m wrong.” Then she looks at me. “And tell me you broke up with Chad because you realized your heart wants someone else…”
“I’m in love with Ace.” I blurt it out, and Cassie whoops in excitement.
“Well, it’s about time you realized,” my mom says like she’s known all along. Which, apparently, is the story of my life when it comes to Ace. While she’s smiling sweetly, she also mutters, “Poor Kline.”
“I just…don’t know what to do now. I feel like my life is a clusterfuck,” I say, voice smaller than I mean it to be. “Ace and I aren’t talking. And I don’t know how to fix it.”
Cassie tilts her head, assessing me the way she probably does her photography subjects. “There’s a Gamma Pi party tonight, right?”
My eyebrows shoot up. “How do you know about that?”
“Because I’m Cassie motherfucking Kelly,” she says, smiling. “I know everything.”
“I don’t even know if Ace is going to be there,” I tell her the same thing I told Kayla and Scottie when they told me it would be the perfect place to talk to Ace.
Cassie smirks. “He’ll be there.”
“How do you know?”
She pulls off her sunglasses and points them at me like a mic drop. “Again, because I’m Cassie motherfucking Kelly, that’s why.”
My mom groans but also laughs. “Remember that Halloween where you and Ace dressed up like Sandy and Danny from Grease?”
I nod, my chest squeezing. “Of course I do. It’s Ace’s favorite movie.”
“You looked amazing,” my mom says.
“You did,” Cassie agrees, eyes twinkling. “And if you’re serious about wanting to fix things with my son…” She leans in. “I’ve got a pair of fantastic leather hot pants at home you could borrow. Just saying.”
Before I can answer, a deep voice from the direction of the camera setup calls out, slightly bewildered. “Uh…Cassie? Are we still doing this? Or…?”
We all turn.
Theo Damon. As in, the Theo Damon. Star of Criminal Bloom, The Stolen Coastline, and that one rom-com everyone was obsessed with last year.
He’s standing in front of the lighting set in a perfectly tailored navy coat, wind machine going, brows furrowed in mild confusion. He’s movie-star handsome with the kind of jawline that could slice a watermelon.
Cassie waves at him like he’s a mildly annoying extra. “Just stand there and look pretty!”
He blinks. “Okay…cool.”
Then she turns right back to me and my mom as if nothing happened.
I glance between her and Theo freaking Damon, stunned. “Did you just…”
Cassie shrugs, nonchalantly adjusting her camera strap. “You know, Jules,” she says casually, “those leather hot pants I mentioned really deserve an encore.”
I can’t decide if this is the best or worst idea I’ve ever had, but I decide I need to do it. I need to show Ace that not only am I sorry for how everything has gone down, but that I’m all in when it comes to him.
By the time I’m back at my apartment building—after a quick pit stop at the Kellys’ penthouse to get Cassie’s leather hot pants—my entire body is vibrating with nervous energy.
But when I unlock my door and step inside, my feet kick something on the floor.
It’s a white envelope, and my name is written on the top of it in handwriting I’ve known for what feels like my whole life. Handwriting I’ve seen change over the years from messy and unreadable to scribbly and sharp.
My hands shake as I open it.
Julia,
There are so many things I want to say to you. So many things I need to say to you. Honestly, I’ve tried. I’ve written so many unsent texts and emails to you, it’s not even funny.
I’m sorry for how I handled shit. I’m sorry for all the wild situations I put you in because I didn’t have the balls to tell you that I’m in love with you.
I’m sorry for that night I came home drunk and didn’t tell you about Double C and made you think I was out with some random girl. I wasn’t, by the way. Frankly, Julia, I can’t fathom the thought of being with another girl who isn’t you.