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)
Monday, July 21st
Ace
As I spritz on my favorite Dior cologne, a text vibrates my phone on my bathroom counter.
Boden: Some of us don’t have the summer off, dude. I’ve been breaking my back at doubles every day. What the fuck have YOU been doing?
His text is in response to the text I sent him three fucking hours ago, asking him where in the hell he’s been and berating him for completely ignoring Finn and me when we tried to reach him last night and this morning.
Me: Mostly fucking off. Getting my shit twisted over Julia. You know the deal. Anyway are you free right now? I’ve got a whole fucking thing happening in Central Park in tminus 25 minutes and I need as many hands on deck as possible.
Boden: Sorry, I’m busy. As appealing as “a whole fucking thing” is. Truly reassuring, actually. Have you gotten any takers with that sales pitch?
Me: Finn’s helping me
Boden: That tracks. You made him a hostage last year. Probably got Stockholm syndrome by now.
Me: Hey jockstrap he gives his friendship freely and willingly. I can’t help it if he’s unconscious when he agrees to things sometimes. He should sleep harder so he doesn’t answer me
Boden: LMAO. Good luck, dude. With whatever it is.
Me: Yeah wahtever. Fuck you too
I slide my phone in the back pocket of my jeans, take one final look at my appearance in the mirror—I look fucking good—and head out my door and across the hall.
I knock three times, fast and hard, on Julia’s door, calling through the wood to emphasize our need to hurry. We’re already running ten minutes late, and I know for a fact that old Finnley Hayes isn’t going to be happy about wrestling a goldendoodle puppy in the middle of Central Park for any longer than contractually agreed upon. “Come on, Jules! You ready?”
“Coming!” she calls back from somewhere inside. “Just a second.”
I bounce on my toes and glance down at my watch again, willing my heartbeat to stop counting the seconds. I can feel it in my lungs, my wrists, my jugular. I am a walking pulse.
She’s been talking about getting a puppy since the day we moved in to our apartments, and the idea of getting to see her face as she realizes it’s happening is…overwhelming.
I never knew it could be like this—that it could feel like this. I’ve always loved Julia, but I’ve undoubtedly spent the majority of my life focused on myself. My reactions, my happiness, my wants and needs. Spending the time focusing myself on her has been enlightening in a million ways I didn’t expect.
I’m learning new smiles, seeing new depths of her dimple—realizing she finds joy in the simplest of things, even when I get frustrated or upset.
She’s sunshine in a bottle, and I’ve taken that for granted for a hell of a lot of years.
Today, though, I get to see a dream of hers come true.
And if I were a betting man—which I totally fucking am—I’d put a couple hundred grand on the fact that being the one to be there when this puppy dream comes true is going to bring us even closer together than we are.
Which is good, because I need to be reallyyy close to her—our bodies practically smashed together, really—to fit between her and Fuckface McGee most days.
“What took you so long?” I ask as soon as the door opens, making her roll her eyes and laugh at me as she pulls it closed and uses her key to lock it.
“Would you keep your panties on?” She huffs. “I don’t know why you’re in such a hurry in the first place.”
“Because, Juliaaa,” I sing. “The sunset is in twenty minutes, and if we miss it, a baby loses its wings.”
“Babies aren’t supposed to have wings.”
“They are, actually, but since so many people miss the sunset, they never get to keep them.”
She snorts. “You’re bizarre.”
“What else is new?”
“I’ll be honest, you’ve been surprisingly calm lately. It’s like Ace, but not, you know? Zen Ace. Zace, if you will.”
“I’m just maturing, Lia. I mean, we’re about to be sophomores in college. We live on our own in apartments in the city. I can’t be out here just acting like a kid anymore. You’d kick me to the curb.”
It’s a little test, of course, to see how I’ve been doing for the last ten days in my plan to persuade her to love me. It’s a check in on the flowers I’ve gotten for her vase when the ones her dad gave her died, and a query about the takeout I brought her the two nights we were at home for dinner, and a thermometer to read if I need to turn up the heat and get even more serious, but she doesn’t give me much to work with other than simple reassurance.