Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
I feel stupid even seeing my naive reply, much less reading it. Can’t wait to see you. I’ll be waiting. Not because it’s untrue. Waiting is all I’ve fucking done today. Setting my laptop on the coffee table, I rest my arms on my legs and look out the window at the darkness of night invading not only my apartment but also my thoughts. I feel like an idiot. Maybe it’s not the texts that I misinterpreted. Maybe it’s her.
Maybe she realized she doesn’t want to slum it over here.
Maybe she’s gotten caught up in the fanfare of whatever rich people do on the holidays.
Maybe I was nothing but a fun time, and now that that’s been had, she’s gone.
Fuck!
With my hands scraping through my hair, I get up and start pacing. But five steps in any direction, four if I stretch my legs, isn’t satisfying enough to take the edge off my frustration. To the bathroom and back again. From the kitchen to the living room. My feet stop. My eyes fixed on what’s in front of me, what’s been right there the entire fucking day. Sosie’s phone.
Shit. No wonder I haven’t heard from her.
I grab it from the TV stand and read my text displayed on the screen when it lights up. With little battery left, I plug it into my charger on the bookcase where I charge mine. That’s when the sparkle of her jewelry catches my eye. The earrings hang like ornaments, evoking the first smile since I discovered she left. I touch one earring and then tap the other to watch it swing. But it’s the necklace wrapped around the top that has me realizing I was overreacting. She wouldn’t have gone to so much effort if she wasn’t planning on returning. Sure, she probably bought it off the street corner, but she seemed to like it enough to wear.
Besides the jewelry, she wouldn’t leave her phone here if she weren’t planning on returning. Right? I don’t care how much money someone has. Everyone is attached to their phone.
I drop back on the couch in another attempt to focus on this project. It’s not due for another two months, but it’s not something I’ll be able to accomplish overnight. The expectation that I'll convert the internship I had last summer into a career in finance now, and how I’ll contribute to growth in that sector, keeps me up at night. I want to be writing, but writing papers wasn’t the goal. Graduating is, though, so I pull my computer back to my lap and focus on where I left off.
But my mind isn’t on Wall Street. It’s on a girl dancing in the snow at the corner of Greene Street and Grand. Okay, Keats, focus. For real.
I work on finishing the paragraph where I had left off earlier, once I get words on the page. I get into the flow, notating my observations and contributions that lead to a 3 percent improvement in how the software recommends services to new clients.
My heart’s not in it.
Stopping again, I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to figure out what the actual distraction is for me. Sure, I can place the blame at Sosie’s feet, but that’s not fair. She doesn’t owe me anything. No one else ever has.
I grab my phone and shoot off a text to my professor:
The studies I cited are from my own research. I can back up my findings and support my—
My phone rings.
My head jerks on my neck, and I answer, “Hello?”
“I don’t know if you celebrate the holidays, Mr. Matthews, but I do,” Professor Johns starts. “With my family. So, as much as I appreciate the time you’re taking to work on your project, this isn't something I’ll work on today. Three texts in two hours tells me you might need to take a break as well.”
“I’d rather not.” I shouldn’t be curt with him when he has every right to call me out.
He sighs. “Seems you’re not going to give up, so would you like to join my family for dinner? It’s not elaborate, but we have plenty to set another plate, and we can discuss your paper afterward.”
I realize what I’ve just done. Dragging this man away from his family to deal with my incessant questions makes me a real asshole. “No, I can’t, but I appreciate it.”
There’s a pause, and then he asks, “Do you have family to spend the holiday with, Keats?”
Now I’m the one hesitating. Not wanting to make a big deal out of it, I reply, “Yeah, I’m supposed to see my mom tonight.”
“Good. I need to get back, but cite your studies, and as long as the information is supported in the attached papers, you’re good. Enjoy your holiday, Mr. Matthews.”
“Thanks. You, too.” I’m not sure whether I was lying or being honest about spending time with my family, but I can turn that lie into the truth by deciding to visit my mom. With other issues more pressing, I glance at Sosie’s phone on the bookcase, then at the tree she decorated with a part of herself. This is stupid. She’s a girl. Why the fuck am I pining like I fell in love? This paper matters more than a good time that obviously won’t turn into anything more. My full attention should be on my capstone project. I’m just surprised I allowed my brain to detour so badly. Last night was fun, great even, but why am I risking my goals on a one-night stand?