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’m growing. Learning. Evolving into an independent woman with—
A soft knock on the door arrives with irony, and I know without looking who’s most likely to be on the other side. My parents have gone home to New Jersey, Ace’s parents left an hour ago, and Drew’s at dinner with his friends at the Manhattan Club.
That leaves only my best friend and new neighbor, Ace.
I round the kitchen island and move toward the door, checking the peephole for safety purposes despite my certainty. My dad’s safety speech about living in the city as a young woman, given only three and a half hours ago, is still fresh.
Ace’s face is rounded and distorted, and he surveys the length of the hall on both sides as he waits for me to answer. Seemingly hearing me on my side, he leans in, his nose stretching and exaggerating, thanks to the lens between us. “Juliaaaa. It’s me. Can I come in?”
I chuckle as I move back and undo the dead bolt and chain, pulling it open for Ace to step inside.
He lets out a low whistle, spinning in a circle as he takes in all the decorating I’ve already done. “Holy cow, Lia, this thing is already better than Pottery Barn. You should see my place. It’s still ninety percent boxes.”
I snort. “And yet, you’re over here instead of unpacking them.”
“Yeah, I just felt like we should chill for a bit. It’s a lot of work moving in to a new place, especially with my parents at the helm.”
I giggle.
“Anyway, I thought we could get a game plan for being across the hall and everything.”
“A game plan?”
He nods like this is all very serious. “Yeah. Alternating dinner spots. Shared laundry days. Maybe we just leave both doors open at all times and treat it like one big loft. Like a commune. A hot-people commune.”
I hum. “This is my first time living alone, Ace. I don’t know about being so rigid with a schedule or anything. I kind of want to be on my own time for once, you know?”
“I get that. The independence hits hard and all that. But I don’t intend to cramp your style, and I know you know it’s not exactly Leave It to Beaver here in the city. The more I know about your shit, the easier it’ll be to make sure you’re safe.”
“And leaving my front door open all the time is safe?”
“Good point.” He puts both hands to his hips. “You need a dead bolt. Ten dead bolts and I need all ten keys to the dead bolts.”
“I have a dead bolt,” I explain carefully. “And a chain. Now, I don’t imagine they’ll withstand a battering ram or anything, but I’m pretty sure they’ll do in a run-of-the-mill situation.”
“Okay, well, that’s good. I should still have the spare key. Just in case. I’ll give you mine too.”
I think it through for a few seconds before ultimately deciding he’s right. Just because I’m looking to do things my way doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be practical. I have a great emergency contact right across the hall, and should anything go wrong—or something as simple as me losing my keys while I’m out—I’ll have a backup plan.
I nod. “You’re right.” Grabbing the spare off the hook next to the door, I take my pink keychain that says Love off the set and hand it to him. “Here. That’s my spare to the knob and the dead bolt.”
“Great. But can you leave the keychain on it? That’ll make it a lot easier to know what it is than if they’re just keys floating around in my drawer.”
“Your drawer?”
Ace smiles. “Yeah. My kitchen filing system, as it were.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh my God.”
“Don’t worry, Jules. Your key is very top priority. I won’t lose it.”
“I guess you’ll give me your spare too?”
“You bet, babe. I’ll go get it in just a minute,” he says, stepping deeper into my apartment and looking around. “Just wanna check some shit first…”
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure your smoke alarms are up to code. You’re supposed to have one in every entry to a new room.”
“What? How the hell do you know that? Did you do a stint in firefighter school that I didn’t know about?”
He laughs. “We all have our niche obsessions, Jules. Mine happens to be fire safety.”
“You seem weird today,” I say, no longer able to ignore the manic energy that appears to be vibrating off his body.
“What? Weird in what way?”
“I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it, but something is different. Are you stressing over going back to school?”
“What? No. I’m excited for the year to start, actually. I have a feeling it’s going to be a great year.”
“Really?” I’m shocked. Ace has never loved school. In fact, he’s barely tolerated it up until now.