Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“You’re not going to try to set her up with anyone, are you?” Jack asks her.
“No. I don’t have anyone to set her up with, unless…you do?”
“I don’t know anybody but the chaps on the rugby team,” Jack says. “And none of them well enough I would consider matching her with—so don’t start cooking up any schemes.”
“I just told you she doesn’t wanna date anyone. I’m not going to try to set her up.”
“I heard what you said.” Jack grins. “I just don’t think you’re going to listen.”
Eliza leans back to get a better look at him, glancing between the two of us. “Do you believe this guy? He doesn’t trust me to behave,” she says to me. “It sounds like he doesn’t trust me not to meddle in my best friend’s love life—that’s what I’m hearing.”
“Are you going to meddle in your best friend’s love life?” I find myself joining the conversation.
She scoffs. “Not right now. She needs some time.”
We continue watching the show, occasionally commenting on a scene or getting up and going to the kitchen for more drinks or food, the amiable companionship a nice change from the drama and chaos that usually occurs at my parents’ house on a night where we’re trying to watch TV.
My brother isn’t here to heckle me or try to change the channel, and my great aunt isn’t here to constantly ask me for small favors. Like getting her some more ice for her glass, or turning up the volume, or turning down the volume, or running to get her some fuzzy socks because her feet are cold.
All in all, it’s been a pretty damn good day.
4
LILLY
It’s Sunday.
It’s Sunday and I’ve spent my free time this entire weekend—between practice, cheering, and working out—painstakingly gluing this award back into its rightful shape. I had to research online to see what the thing is actually supposed to look like, and I must say, I did a pretty dang good job replicating it considering I had nothing to go on but broken glass.
It wasn’t easy making it resemble its former self, but luckily, a bunch of the pieces were intact enough that Roman’s name is visible.
Legible.
Sort of?
The rest is hodgepodge.
I’m not sure what his full name actually is because the letters of his last name appear to be missing from the shards and I wasn’t sure what his last name was to begin with—I feel like this looks okay?
I hold it up and study it in the light, tilting it this way and that. I went to the hobby store as soon as I left Eliza’s house and got some clear glitter—the super fine kind that’s more expensive and lustrous—to fill in the gaps with.
The whole thing sparkles like a diamond.
I’d even added a few clear rhinestones to the back to patch up a few holes. It looks like a trophy that would be presented during a lip-syncing competition or as a white elephant gift, but at least he will still have it to display on his shelf.
All in all, I’m quite pleased.
Laying it out on my desk, I roll it in a towel so it’s safe when I put it back into its box. Clean up the mess I’ve made in my bedroom, getting out the vacuum and rolling it back and forth across the carpet beneath the desk.
My roommate sticks her head in the room and watches me until she catches my eye and I turn off the loud vacuum.
“Want to come do my room next?” she teases, although I have a feeling there’s a bit of truth to her question—Kaylee would gladly allow me to do the cleaning in the entire house, including her bedroom.
“Yeah right,” I tease back. “Should I do your windows too?”
I hate cleaning. There is no way on this earth I’m doing her windows, let alone her carpet. The dust on my shelves is the same dust that has been there since the day we moved in.
“Sure, why not?” She leans against the doorjamb. “What on earth are you doing anyway? You’ve been in here for hours.”
I have been, and now I am starving.
“I was crafting.” Finished with the carpet, I wind the cord before hanging it back on the handle of the vacuum. “I was working on something for a friend, and now I have to go take it over to his place.”
“Oh a friend? Is this a male friend?”
I did just say his place.
And she says it in that way, her tone implying there is more to this male than friendship—but she would be wrong, and I suppose I’m not really in the mood for her banter.
“Eliza and Jack have a new roommate, and he broke a glass trophy when he was moving in so I decided I was going to fix it up for him.”