Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“Starting this week and continuing for the rest of the semester, I’m going to be breaking you up into groups of three to work on an extensive project. There will be multiple parts. There will be tests. There will, hopefully, be teamwork.”
I watch Professor Winslow’s carefree smile closely and find myself overanalyzing it entirely. It’s straight but still has character, and his jaw is stronger than most. It actually reminds me of Finn’s smile in some freakish way, if Finn weren’t so damn broody all the time.
“Before you leave today, you can pick up your copy of The Winter’s Tale down here at my desk. It is on loan from Dickson, so please take care of it, but other than that, nothing is off-limits. I expect each of you to become intimate with Shakespeare’s text.”
“Ooh,” Ace calls predictably. “Professor Winslow wants us to get intimate.”
“With the book,” Professor Winslow challenges with a wag of his finger. “But hey, since you’re in the mood to be the center of attention, Ace. I’ll start with you. You’ll be working with…” He leans down to consult his clipboard. “Shawn Nevil and Joey Gonzales.”
Ace frowns. “You want me to get intimate with guys?” Professor Winslow smiles. “Come on. Not even one girl? Like a male/male/female romance novel kind of thing?” Ace continues.
Even in my current mood, I snort. Finn’s eyes jump immediately to mine, and I have to hold my breath.
On the night of the fight, as we ate pizza in Finn and Ace’s dorm room, Ace mentioned that his mom’s main career is photography, but that she also writes romance novels. I downloaded one online after that and actually got a chance to read it while we were on the bus to and from Ithaca.
It had a whole lot of freaky shit in it, including, but not limited to, service pig voyeurism—which isn’t a surprise now that I’ve been around Ace and his dad a little bit—but it was also pretty romantic.
I just wish I’d stop turning whatever the hell is happening between Finn and me into some kind of romance novel of my own.
“Scottie Bardeaux,” Professor Winslow calls out then, startling my attention away from Finn.
I raise my hand. “Yes?”
“You’ll be working with…” He looks down at his sheet of paper again. “Finnley Hayes and Nadine Jones.”
I nod and smile, but on the inside, I’m dying. I’m talking organ trauma, internal bleeding, sliced and diced.
I’ve talked a big game about getting over and moving on and rising above. But an intimate rest of the semester with the girl who hates me and the guy I wish I could get over? Sounds just powerful enough to prove the in-control-of-her-emotions me is a liar.
Friday, October 25th
Finn
My head spins with equations and other math bullshit as I leave algebra on Friday. An electric vibe is in the air as everyone chatters about weekend plans and endless parties.
It’s a bye week for the football team, and everyone is raring to celebrate our undefeated streak. Sigma Tau is having a luau, Beta Kappa is doing an Olympic-themed vodka luge, and according to two of the girls in algebra, there’s a house party in one of the abandoned buildings just outside of campus.
My body rocks to the side in a violent push, and my hair ruffles while weight clings to my back. I stutter-step but catch my balance as Ace wraps himself around me like a spider monkey.
“What the hell, man?” I sigh, shrugging him off with a roll of my shoulders. He laughs, and my backpack slides off with him, landing in a heap and spilling some of its contents through the partially open zipper.
My dad’s stolen journal—the one I acquired three Sundays ago, right before taking two or three fists to the face when I got between my old man and Willow—is the only thing I can see.
Ace, fortunately, is preoccupied with his own agenda as he climbs to his feet, and I put the contents of my backpack back inside. “Come on, let’s go get dinner and figure out what we want to hit tonight.”
“I don’t know if I feel like going out,” I hedge, making him guffaw.
“Yeah, okay, buddy. Good one.”
“I’m serious.”
“Too bad. I need a wingman, and now that you’ve royally fucked things with Scottie, you’re the perfect candidate. I need you free to fondle the best friend of whomever I’m after anyway.”
“Ace.”
“Finn.”
I sigh, and he smiles. “See…you know how pointless it is to fight me on this, which means you know me. We’re soul mates. I would have totally gotten intimate with you if Ty let me.”
My jaw tightens at the mention of Professor Ty Winslow and our big group project. He makes it sound like Shakespeare is going to solve all our problems, but it’d be a lot more fucking helpful if he hadn’t grouped me with the girl I’m not good enough for and a ditsy, promiscuous sidekick.