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)
He also worked eighty hours a week as a welder at the steel factory so he could afford to send my sister and me to private school. Mom didn’t help at all with money—in fact, most of the time, she spent it—but she didn’t help much at home either. He did it all as best he could in the little free time he had.
Me: Thanks, Dad. Love you too.
I go to shove my phone back into my bag, but my poise is still on vacation, and I manage to drop the damn thing on the floor, facedown, with a loud bang.
Of course, my ongoing battle with gravity catches my neighbor’s attention again, and I feel his eyes on me as I bend awkwardly around my desk to grab it. If it weren’t for the case and screen protector, I’m certain I would’ve shattered it, but as it is, the only damage is a hairline fracture in the protector at the top by the camera.
“Is it fucked?” he asks on a near whisper.
My smile is self-conscious as hell, and I consider telling him I’m not always this much of a mess, but his phone vibrates on top of his desk and promptly removes his attention from me before I can open my mouth. I’m equal parts thankful and disappointed.
His fingers move furiously over the screen, and I set my notebook and pen on the foldout desk connected to my chair. I sit silently and awkwardly, waiting for him to be done and wondering how I can find a way to apologize again for the mess outside and thank him for his help.
A memory of his thumb reaching out to brush a lone tear off my cheek does the Cha Cha Slide in my head, and my mind takes an immediate, dirty-as-hell detour. If a simple touch to the cheek is that memorable, what would happen if he touched me other places?
My face heats from the inappropriate thought. Jeez Louise, what is wrong with me today?
“Good morning!” a loud, boisterous voice shouts from the back of the lecture hall, and it grabs both my and my seat neighbor’s attention, along with that of everyone else in the room.
I look over my shoulder to find a man dressed in a perfectly fitted gray suit striding in with a briefcase. He has a full head of light-brown hair, but without my glasses, I can’t make out much more about his features than that. But from the gasps and sighs around me, it’s obvious I’ll want to take another look on a good vision day.
“I’m Professor Winslow,” he greets with a smile as he walks right past me and my seatmate to his desk. I immediately glance toward the back of the room to see if that horny bitch Nadine is flinging her underwear from across the room, but she’s too busy giggling and bouncing her big boobs toward my boyfriend, whom she now sits right beside. Dane is eating it up like a chump.
Is he for real right now?
On a huff, I turn back around in my seat as Professor Winslow drops his briefcase down on his desk. But my elbow manages to make contact with my notebook and pen and shove both onto the hardwood floor of the lecture hall with a slap.
Of course, both items land right next to his shoes, and I offer an apologetic frown in his direction. “Whoops.” I cringe. Why can’t I human today?
He shakes it off without judgment, his brown eyes warm, and reaches down with one strong hand to pick up my lost items off the ground. His bicep flexes beneath his T-shirt as he sets them back on my desk, and I find myself wondering how much a guy has to work out to get muscles like that.
I’ve spent most of my life surrounded by football players, and I’ve yet to see anyone look as sculpted as this guy. I’d question if he was a student-athlete, but his vibe doesn’t give off jock. It gives off…I don’t know…mysterious bad boy.
I haven’t a clue why, because “bad boys” are notoriously single animals and the absolute last thing a not-single girl like me needs, but it only makes him more appealing.
“First day of college,” Professor Winslow states with another smile that has some of the girls in my class fanning themselves with one hand. “How are we feeling?”
“Like it’s too early for this shit!” someone yells from the back. Professor Winslow laughs.
“I love when the smartasses make themselves known on day one. Makes my job easier.”
Holy shit. Cursing and engaging with the class clown to do anything other than send him to detention? College is definitely different from high school.
Unable to stop myself, I glance behind me to see how other people are reacting and then over to my mysterious neighbor. Unlike the rest of us nervous, excited newbies, he looks angry.