Total pages in book: 9
Estimated words: 7825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 39(@200wpm)___ 31(@250wpm)___ 26(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 7825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 39(@200wpm)___ 31(@250wpm)___ 26(@300wpm)
One blind date.
Two sets of friends – both in on the joke.
More than one drink leads to one intense night.
When morning comes are the feelings real or was it all just shenanigans?
This is a college romance short story full of insta-lust, insta-love, and insta-gratification. It’s a fast-paced, quick-read meant to make you smile, laugh, and dampen your panties. If you’re not looking for that kind of read then this isn’t for you.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
Mundane
ARYN
Bastard. Asshole. Dickhead. With every thump of the bass in his music blaring I only think of more names to call him.
Why doesn’t he understand some of us care about meeting deadlines?
Professor Gates doesn’t allow anyone to be late. It’s either on time or fail.
News happens every second of every day, if we have an editor expecting work from us, it hasn’t been given to anyone else, so delay is not an option. He considers this our training for the real world of journalism. The perfectionist inside of me doesn’t care why he gave the direction, I simply need to do it.
Real world training or not, I’m in college to get an education. My parents are spending too much money for me to slip up and waste a single second of this opportunity. Head down, stay out of everyone else’s drama and learn. All of this matters too much. I will be the first Cole in my family to have a college degree.
I have one year to go and it’s done. I can almost picture the look on my mother’s face to watch me put on my cap and gown. With my degree in hand, I will go out into the real world better equipped for a career than my parents were.
To most, I live this mundane life for being in college. Sure, I have my sorority. I attend all of our charitable activities and meetings. The extras, like the parties, I go, but not often. I’m okay with it. This is my college experience and I am focused on my education. My future is more important than my today. I refuse to lose focus of it.
Right now, I’m struggling to concentrate. This one paper is going to be the death of my Dean’s List goals at the rate I’m going.
No, fuck that. I’m better than this. I will get this finished come Hell or high water.
And I won’t let Schade Britton or the likes of him hold me back on even a single assignment.
Standing from my tiny desk space, I toss clothes around my small dorm room trying to find my headphones. It’s my best solution in this moment. The library is an option, however, I would be walking in the rain to get there.
Dammit, Aryn, I scold myself. Over and over again, I promise to get organized, to clean up once and for all and keep it that way. It just never seems to happen. Now I need my headphones like I need to breathe and can’t find them.
Clank. Clank. Clank. The steady sound of metal moving against metal assaults my ears.
I should have taken the open bed at the house when I had the opportunity. Why didn’t I do it when I had the chance? Regret runs deep on that decision.
Pi Delta Chi! The sorority house doesn’t get openings often, and when they had the last one, I let my fellow sister and one of my best friends, Rachel take the spot because her dorm-mate was a freak. And I mean that in the nicest of ways possible.
Plus, my other bestie Monica, swears living in the dorm is our opportunity to have the full college experience. Sometimes – like now – I want to tell her where she can take her college experience and shove it. She lives for the late nights, parties, new people, neighbors, crap food, and struggling to manage social time alongside school requirements.
Clank. Clank. Clank. The noise keeps coming as he continues his repetitions. I have heard this sound before. I don’t know how he can count with his music unbearably high like this. Why can he not use headphones like the people at the gym.
Great, he’s working out and jamming.
The Parkour professional, as he calls himself is working out in his own room since it’s pouring rain outside. Go figure. I don’t even know how he managed to get that kind of equipment in the room, but I don’t care either. In my head, I imagine tip-toeing around the space due to the close quarters of his bed and weight bench. Who knows, maybe he sleeps on that bench. Either way, I want to take every piece of it and toss it in a dumpster.
He moved in at the beginning of the year saying he lost some bet with his fraternity brother. I don’t care what brought him here, I just wish he would find his way back out.
I mean really, Parkour … can one call that a profession?
Personally, free-running and making my own obstacles doesn’t seem like it could be a profession, but some how Schade Britton makes it his. Traveling for competitions and believe it or not getting paid when he wins.
How do I know this? He tells everyone around him, loudly. Being his neighbor, I hear far more than I want to.