Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 52643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
I set down my pen and smile.
“Don’t do that,” she says. “Your smile disarms me, and this is serious.”
“Then why are you wearing lingerie?”
“Because I’m hoping you’ll tell me that this intense project is almost done and you’ll fuck me.”
“It’s not done.”
“If you don’t finish it by the end of the month, would it really be that terrible?” She sits in my lap, threading her fingers through my hair.
“I guess not,” I say. “I just won’t get paid. Then I’ll lose my seven-figure salary and have to live on the street.”
“You can move into my studio, if it gets that bad.” She shrugs. “It’s bigger than it looks.”
“I appreciate your offer, but if I became dependent on you, I would no longer be your type, correct?”
“Yeah.” She nods. “You’d be a bum.” She caresses my chest and presses a kiss against my neck.
“I guess I can hold out longer.” She slides off my lap and pulls on a sweatshirt. “Want anything from the coffee cart downstairs?”
“A bagel would be nice.”
“Can I get truffle butter on mine?”
“Of course.”
“Perfect!” She pulls on her leggings and leaves the room.
She knocks on the door five minutes later.
“Coming!”
It’s not her.
It’s Genevieve.
“You left something.” She holds up my license.
I try to grab it, but she moves it behind her back. “I didn’t deserve to be left like that.”
“No, you deserved to be stoned.” He growls. “You nearly fucking ruined me.”
“‘What the hell are you talking about?”
“You almost cost my grandfather his legacy.” He glares at me. “You could’ve cost me my job, too. I managed to resign before shit hit the fan, but you really fucked me over.”
“Liam...” She looks genuinely confused. “I don’t understand.”
“You lied to me the first night we met.”
“You’re just now figuring out my real name was never ‘Rebecca’? Really?”
“You’re too smart to play dumb.”
“Whatever it is, why couldn’t you tell me before? I could’ve—”
“Sped up time?” I glare at her. “Because that’s the only way it would’ve been partly okay.”
“Liam…” Her voice cracks. “Please just spell it out for me. Please.”
“You still big on the word ‘choose?’” I ask. “Because I keep trying to choose to walk the fuck away from you and never talk to you again. You seem to have moved on, so let me do the same.”
“Gen Gen?” Lauren steps off the elevator down the hall. “What are you doing here?”
Genevieve wipes her eyes. “Brett was getting his ID back at the club and we realized Liam left his.”
“Oh! Well, thanks for bringing this back to him,” she says. “I could’ve picked it up tomorrow, though.”
“I have intensive study sessions all weekend.”
“Oh, right,” she says. “Well, want to join us for a nightcap before you go home?”
“She can’t,” “I can’t,” we say in unison.
“Okay, then…” She laughs. “Well, let me walk you down to the garage then.”
“Genevieve was also telling me a funny story about a guy she dated at Exeter, a guy we both have in common,” I say. “She snuck off campus to meet him and lied about her age.”
“Tale as old as time.” Lauren laughs.
“Yeah, but in this story, she kept lying to the guy.” I stare at Genevieve. “First she said she was twenty-one, and then after the guy figured out she was lying, she confessed to being eighteen.”
“Okay.” Lauren shrugs. “What’s the big deal?”
“Turns out, she was lying about that, too,” I say, staring at Genevieve. “She was only sixteen when they met.”
All the color drains from Genevieve’s face, and I can see when it finally hits her.
Now you fucking know…
-1
LIAM
Exeter, New Hampshire
The Night Before I Left
Grandfather Peterson
Meet me in my office son. Now.
Iwave at the secretary on my way into the administration building and knock on my grandfather’s door.
“Sorry I’m late,” I say. “I didn’t see your message until just now. My mentee group ran a little late with last minute Thesis Day questions.”
“Take a seat,” his voice is firm.
“I’m fine standing.”
“Sit the fuck down Liam Donovan Peterson.” He slams the door shut. “Now.”
I oblige, confused as to what’s going on.
He closes the blinds and draws all the drapes shut.
“Turn off your phone,” he says.
I obey and watch him walk to his hidden liquor cabinet.
He pulls out a bottle of scotch and pours two glasses.
I hold out my hand for one, but he downs them both back to back.
“I could’ve sworn your doctor told you not to drink more than once a week,” I say. “Do I need to call him?”
“I’m being extorted, Liam.” He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears.
“What?” I sit up. “By who?”
“Someone who better be lying to me.”
“Is it about my parents? One of their fellow inmates?”
“No, that’s something I can handle on my own.” He picks up a folder and tosses it to me. “This, though? I’m in unchartered waters.”
I flip the folder open and immediately sigh.