Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“I don’t.”
“Then just give it to me.”
“That’s what she said.”
I stare at him and shake my head in disbelief. “Seriously? Just give me her damn number. I already have her email address.”
“Fuck off; I want nothing to do with this.” He turns and starts walking the stadium stairs, taking them two at a time, towards the lobby of the hockey arena.
Frustrated, because I can’t stand not getting my own way, I call up after him. “McGrath. What’s it going to take?”
Slowly, Weston stops in his tracks…
…and I know I’ve won.
CHAPTER 6
CECELIA
“I caught myself smiling for no reason… Then I realized I had been thinking of you.”
– Cece Carter
At some point in a person’s life, you need a direction.
For me, on this particular day, that direction was towards the closest Starbucks.
I sit in a corner table up against the wall, my laptop, latte, water, and books all spread out in front of me… Well. As spread out as it can get on these tiny squares they pass off as tables. Technically I’m scrunched in the corner table, but it works for me because at least here I can work without being interrupted.
Anytime I work from home, there are bound to be distractions: usually in the form of Molly coming into my room to talk… or Molly making a smoothie in the kitchen, running the blender until there are no chunks in it… or Molly laughing during a phone call. Or, at least once or twice during the week, Molly dragging Weston to our apartment – only to disappear into her bedroom… and call me crazy, but I don’t want to imagine what’s going on behind her closed door.
Basically what I’m getting at is, my roommate is loud.
Not on purpose. It just… happens.
I glance up and gaze outside the window: today it’s drizzling and overcast, and I’m bundled up in an Irish cable knit sweater, bright scarf tied around my neck to keep the chill out, leggings and boots. My hair is in a messy top knot, kept tidy by a thin headband.
Perched on top of my head are reading glasses.
Everything is laid out ‘just so’ and the dark weather outside makes it perfect to concentrate. People come in and out of Starbucks - the hustle and bustle, combined with my iTunes - is the perfect recipe for pounding out this 30 page thesis, the subject matter I am far from the expert on.
I’ll tell you the topic, but you have to promise not to get bored. Okay. Are you ready? Here it is; The United States was once a dominating strong force in all Global Economic industry… when did the shift in dominating control by other countries occur, and why?
Sounds simple enough, right!? (Because it really is) I could go on about this topic for days and days, but fact is, I cannot exceed the thirty page maximum – and therein lies the problem.
Curbing my enthusiasm for the topic.
My phone on the white, carrera marble café table chimes.
291-555-2700: knock knock
I stare at the number, wracking my brain for whom it could possibly be. I hate responding to unidentified messages.
Me: who is this?
291-555-2700: the correct response is ‘who’s there?’
How annoying. I roll my eyes and tap out: FINE. Who’s there?
291-555-2700: Didn’t your mother teach you not to talk to strangers.
Me: “didn’t your mother teach you not to talk to strangers” who
291-555-2700: Wait, that wasn’t part of the joke.
Me: Good-bye.
291-555-2700: you can’t ignore me. you owe me.
Me: Owe you???? Are you nuts! I don’t even know who ‘you’ are.
291-555-2700: yes you do. you’ve been waiting for me to text you all day.
Just then, my phone chimes again, only this time it’s Molly.
Molly: don’t kill me.
Me: what are you talking about?
Molly: Weston just told me he gave my brother your number.
I stare at the screen on my phone, the message, illuminated in a tiny yellow bubble, blinks back at me. I can’t even formulate an intelligent response.
Molly: I’m soooo sooooo sorry!!!!!! He said Matthew was asking for it, and he had no choice.
Molly: don’t worry, I’ll take care of this.
Me, to Molly: Too late.
291-555-2700: hey.
Me to 291-555-2700: If I stop responding, will you eventually leave me alone?
291-555-2700: Didn’t we cover this once during an email?
Me: (loud sigh) Yes. But then you pissed me off and I had no choice but to respond…
291-555-2700: See. It’s like I said. The ladies can’t resist me. Plus there’s that issue of the 200 bucks you owe me.
291-555-2700: It’s kind of a lot of money, and I’m hard up.
Me: (Snort)
291-555-2700: LOL. Hard up. Get it?
Me: You’re an idiot.
291-555-2700: See, there you go insulting me.
Me: Because you’re acting like a 15 year old. WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?
291-555-2700: Can you just ask Molly if she’s going to our parent’s house for dinner next weekend?
Me: Seriously?
291-555-2700: No.
Me: OMG. You’re so annoying.