Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 71595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“How is it?” I ask eagerly when Hannah and Vivi finish reading the introduction I’ve texted them. It’s for my newest work-in-progress, which only they and a few others know about. “What do you think? Is it bad? Good? Horrib—-”
Hannah laughingly interrupts my babbling, saying, “It’s perfect. So congratulations!” She gives me a quick hug. “You’ve got your mojo back.”
I close my eyes to savor the words. Thank You, God. It’s another drizzling sort of afternoon, and umbrella-less people like my friends and me are once again stranded while other students hurry past us. With my gaze shrouded, the multitude of notes making up life’s symphony becomes discernible. There’s the soft but irregular thud of people’s footfalls as they rush down the steps of the school building, the quick, sharp snapping sound of umbrellas opening mingling with the whipping slashes of unfolding plastic raincoats. And then there’s the sound of rain, the steady, drumming rhythm that holds everything together as it strikes the grounds with a dependable, pit-patting beat. Here and there, I hear snatches of people’s conversations, their tinkling words like the notes of a carelessly sung capriccio.
I hate this weather.
I knew I should have brought my umbrella with me.
I told him we’d meet at the station in ten minutes.
I feel for them, but the truth is, I love the sound of rain. I love the music it plays, love the way its melody shapes the air, love the—-
Oh, who am I kidding?
I’m just so happy these days I could say I love poop and I’d totally mean it.
Hannah’s giggles pull me back to reality, and I grimace when I realize that they’ve caught me dancing to la-la land again.
“You have it so bad,” she teases.
“You may say that again,” Vivi says darkly.
“You can say that again,” I correct her while fanning my face, which suddenly feels like it’s on fire.
“Yes, yes, I do mean that.” She wrinkles her nose. “But I am certain you understand what I am saying. So many words, Kat – and all to describe how hot Alexei looks in a hoodie?”
“But he really does look good,” I mumble. “That’s all I—-” I stop speaking when I see Vivi eyeing my neck the wrong way.
It’s been a little over a month since Yuki and I have started sort-of-but-not-really-going out, and I think that’s exactly what Vivi is having a problem with. She doesn’t think it’s right we’re doing all the things that couples do without being one. And that’s only on the basis of what she sees, like Yuki kissing me (everyone in school has seen this, actually, which is a little exciting embarrassing, or me passing up on girls’ night out (like now) because Yuki and I have a study session (really) at his place.
But then there are also the other things that Vivi or anyone else doesn’t know, like the fact that Yuki has made it his personal mission for us to make out in just about every corner in school, and then there’s how he’s also determined to give me an orgasm in just about every station there is in the Yamanote Loop –
Anyway, you get the point.
If Vivi knows about that stuff as well, I don’t think she’d let me out of our room. She’s like a protective mother hen where Yuki and I are concerned, and since Yuki’s never bothered to fake being an angel the way he did back in high school, he doesn’t even qualify as a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He is a wolf, and I’m pretty sure Vivi isn’t the only one who thinks he’ll eventually chomp my heart to death, just like how the wolf did with Red Riding Hood’s good old granny.
“I am only worried about you,” Vivi says.
“I know,” I assure her quickly, “and I’m seriously grateful for it. But in this case, there’s truly nothing to worry about. The paragraph I showed you is only about how good the right guy can look in a hoodie, nothing else.” To prove my point, I take my phone out and show them the series of selfies that I got Yuki to take this morning for me.
The first one is of Yuki in his bedroom wearing a maroon hoodie.
The second one is of Yuki in his kitchen, the sleeves of his hoodie pushed up to his elbows to expose the exquisite bone structure of his arms.
The third one is of Yuki in the bathroom, and he’s glaring at the mirror while he holds his hoodie halfway up to show his washboard abs.
Most girls would have killed me in pure envy for this, but because Vivi and Hannah are my friends, they react the way only friends can do. Their laughter fills the air, and I grin even as I say primly, “I told you he looks good in a hoodie.”