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)
Vivi rolls her eyes. “What do you think? They’re waiting to confess.”
To say I’m incredulous is an understatement, and I exclaim, “Even after what he did?”
“Ssh!” Vivi looks around us furtively. “Please keep your voice down.”
Oops. “Sorry.” I go back to whispering.
She pats my hand, saying in a low voice, “I am only concerned for your safety. And as for those girls liking him still—-” Her upper lip seems permanently curled by now. “It’s because they’re all very nationalistic.”
“I...see.” But I don’t. What does one’s love for one’s country have to—-
“They all think they are the one to change him—-”
Oh. I quickly suppress my smile when I realize Vivi meant ‘narcissistic.’
“And since it’s been proven that he will not bother to meet with any of them in private, it’s the only way for them to make sure he hears their confessions.”
“Unbelievable.” And it really is. I used to think I was the world’s biggest idiot, to have believed that X was truly in love with me, but those girls have definitely taken foolish to a whole new level.
When we reach the dorm, I can’t help sighing at the sight of the stairs. It’s like a forced workout – and shouldn’t that be illegal?
Vivi’s lips twitch when I release a second sigh. “Is it really that bad?” she asks.
“It’s inhumane,” I say. “That's what it is.”
“But it’s just four floors,” Vivi protests.
I’m horrified. “Can you hear yourself? Four floors, Vivi! Each floor has two flights of stairs, and each flight has twelve steps—-”
Vivi starts laughing. “You truly counted it?”
“I truly did,” I growl. “So that’s a total of 72 steps! 72! And I can only imagine how tortuous it’s going to be when I have stuff—-” I freeze.
Vivi blinks. “What is it?’
Stuff.
My stuff.
“I forgot my stuff at the teashop,” I wail.
Vivi relaxes. “Oh. I thought it was something serious.”
“This is serious! My passport and wallet—-”
“Please do not worry. No one will steal your stuff, I promise. You can go back for it tomorrow—-”
“Tomorrow?” I almost shriek the word out, I’m that appalled by the suggestion. Back at home, it takes only a few seconds to leave your bag unattended and you’ll find yourself victimized by identity theft and your credit card maxed out. And she says I can go back for it tomorrow?
“I’m going now,” I tell her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” she calls out as I start running down the stairs.
“It’s okay,” I yell back. “I remember the way.” And then I break into a run. I make it back to the university hall in record time, but I’m also back to huffing and puffing. My iPhone buzzes inside my pocket just as I reach the second floor and pause for breath. Pulling it out, I bite my lip the moment I realize it’s a text message from the sheikh.
Although the message is entirely casual, it still leaves me flustered. How does one text a sheikh without sounding either too presumptuous or too aloof? Nibbling on my lip, I reach for the steel handle of the teashop’s glass door without looking up, too busy working out the proper wording of my reply.
Should I say ‘hello’ too? I give the door a good, hard yank, but it doesn’t budge.
Weird, I think. I give the door another tug, more forcefully this time, but it doesn’t even give an inch. With my head still down and my gaze trained on my cellphone, I don’t see the guy at the other side of the door, also texting, and also trying to yank the door open – in the opposite direction.
When the door remains stubbornly resistant, I shove my phone back into my jeans pocket with a frown. How heavy can this door be, blast it? Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself to go all out with my third try.
Go hard or go home, KC!
Ready, set, pull!
My gaze lifts up.
Green eyes meet baby blues—-
His fingers jerk away from the door handle like it’s burned him, but it happens the same time my fingers curl around the handle on my side for one hard yank. The door nearly swings off its hinges-—
Towards me.
Uh...oh.
Word of the Day: Kuudere, n.
1. One of the –dere types used to describe a fictional character in manga and anime, a male or female who’s normally expressionless and aloof except in circumstances concerning a romantic interest
2. Classic “ice prince” personality
Blog #725
So, nosebleeds.
In the medical world, it’s referred to as ‘epistaxis,’ which is nice to know but totally unnecessary, like most stuff taught in high school.
In the world of manga and anime, nosebleeds are a commonly used visual device to denote sexual arousal or intense romantic interest. A horny guy sees a woman with D-cups in a bikini? Nosebleed. A girl sees her crush across the street? Nosebleed. KC meets X years after their breakup? Nosebleed.