Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
That was the last thing I wanted. Every night I surfed the web for hours, trying to find another living arrangement. There was no way I could afford even the tiniest apartment on my own. Not with my paltry income and the cost of living in the Chicago area. But if I could just find a decent situation with a couple of other roommates like I had before, then I could move out.
And if I didn’t find that in the next eight days when his lease renewed, I’d have to co-sign a new lease with him and be stuck there for another year.
I couldn’t let that happen.
Since no one else had arrived to get a massage, I grabbed my phone and went to find them. And if they were engrossed in studying, then I’d continue my search for a living situation that didn’t include my deadbeat dad.
7
NAOMI
Justin was down by the pool. He was laying on a lounge chair, his eyes closed. I didn’t think he was asleep, however, because he had earbuds in, and there was a half-eaten sandwich on a chair next to him.
He was only wearing shorts, and the sun reflected off his taut muscles. Did every house in Florida contain such muscular men? If so, I should’ve visited this state a long time ago.
My first thought was that he was listening to music, but then I noticed that his tongue was sticking slightly out of his mouth, as if he was concentrating. It was kind of endearing to see a big, strong man with his pink tongue protruding like that. Not wishing to disturb him, I settled at a nearby table. The umbrella overhead provided enough shade so that I could see my phone screen. I was determined to find a roommate that wasn’t Frank or die trying.
The trouble was, it was hard. There were websites for finding potential roommates, and there were also postings by people who already had a house or apartment and needed one more person to split the rent, but there was almost always something majorly wrong with the situation. Like potential roommates who gave off creepy vibes, or ones who expected two multiple people to share a room. I could share a bathroom, that’s what I was doing now with Frank, but I didn’t want to actually share a bedroom with someone.
And any of the decent living situations got snatched up almost as soon as they were posted.
A movement in my peripheral vision distracted me. Justin’s eyes were open now, and he was taking a bite out of his huge sandwich. His Adam’s apple bobbed while he chewed. Then he noticed me and took out the earbuds. “Morning. I didn’t hear you come out.”
“I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Thanks. Probably a good call, because this material is a nightmare.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that. “Sorry?”
“I got the audio version of some of the study guides. It helps me to hear the material.” He grinned. “Plus, it doesn’t suck studying in such a nice spot.”
I had to agree with him there. “And with a sandwich to keep your brain cells fed.”
He grinned. “Exactly. I study better with a sandwich.” I laughed, and his smile widened. “It’s true, though. It was that way all the way back in high school. It gives me something simple—and delicious—to focus on.”
“I wish you and your support sandwich lots of luck on the test,” I said. “Tye told me the reason you all are going to law school.”
“If we pass the test,” Justin said, his face falling a little. “But I’m surprised he told you that. He’s never been the most talkative guy, and it’s only gotten worse since—” Justin paused and seemed to reconsider. “Well, I’m just surprised.”
“I think it’s impressive, to want to help other athletes make the world a better place. Is that why you all are in such a hurry to take the LSAT?” I got up while I was speaking, grabbed my phone, and moved to a chair closer to him.
“Not entirely. But we have to pass the test this month in order to start classes in the fall.”
That surprised me. “I thought people took the exam long before applying to law school.” Or at least I’d gotten that impression from movies.
Justin smiled. “We never do things the regular way. In this case, there’s a school—a private university in northern Georgia—that’s holding spots open for us. Tyler went there for undergrad, and though Langley is a small school, it’s got an excellent law program and a strong baseball team. The powers that be are holding our spots because they think that we’ll be good publicity. You know, like for fundraisers and alumnae drives. So as long as we pass, we can start in September.”
“You’ll pass it.”
“Right.” Justin’s forehead wrinkled. He seemed genuinely worried about it. He’d told me before that he was a jock in school and that academics weren’t his strong suit. I hoped the pressure wasn’t getting to him.