Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
But now, I’m frozen with horror. This has to be a mistake, I think, shielding my eyes from Celine LaFleur and her ripe boobs. There’s no way that she’s sending naked pictures to my boyfriend. Jasper would never cheat on me, right? We have such a good relationship, and I need him, because…
I feel tears well up in my eyes, unbidden. I haven’t told him yet, but my big plans post-graduation don’t include college or starting a career. All I want is a family of my own because I’ve always had a strong maternal instinct. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve known that I wanted to be a caretaker when I grew up--that I wanted to be someone’s mom. I know I’m young, and that Jasper is, too, but I’m ready to have a baby with him when we graduate. I’ve never been more sure of, or more excited about, anything.
But now it seems Jasper has other ideas.
Hot tears spill down my cheeks, and I swipe at them with the back of my hand. This has to be a mistake. Celine has to be messaging the wrong person.
I’m about to type Celine a scathing message when three wavy dots appear and another message pops up. “Show me your gros penis, Jasper, mon cheri.”
My mouth, which has been hanging open, snaps closed. “Gros penis” definitely doesn’t mean “gross penis.” Celine is asking for my dear Jasper to show her his “big dick.”
My confusion and horror turn into a white-hot rage. These messages are definitely for Jasper, and not only that, but obviously this liaison has been going on for awhile. Livid, I click on Celine’s username, and see a whole backlog of explicit messages they’ve sent to each other. Some of them date as far back as six months ago. I start to read them, but squeeze my eyes shut and push the laptop away instead, bile rising in my throat. There’s a lot of “gros penis” and Jasper’s oh-so-elegant comeback, “I want to hear your wet pussy squelch.” Ugh. I’ve seen everything I need to.
But then at that very moment, my boyfriend enters the library and waves at me from across the room. I can’t wipe the scowl from my face, and I see his expression dim when he sees me before becoming confused. He winds through the labyrinth of bookshelves and tables before appearing at my side. “Hi, baby,” he says, about to sling an arm around my shoulders. I shrink away.
“Don’t you dare,” I grind out, my voice thick with emotion.
“What?” he asks. But I merely point at his computer screen, where Celine’s most recent messages blaze in all their X-rated glory. Even worse, there’s a particularly explicit photo of Celine where she’s holding her pussy lips open to show him her glistening pink interior and bulging clit. I didn’t even know women took pictures like this outside of pornography.
Jasper’s handsome face pales and his pale blue eyes widen to an almost comical diameter. “Oh, um,” he stutters, looking from the screen to me and back again. After a long moment, he seizes the laptop and slams it shut. It doesn’t matter. We both know what we saw.
“I don’t know her,” he stammers finally, going beet red. “We have, like, one class together, I think, but…”
Maybe it’s the look on my face, or maybe it’s his own internalized guilt. Either way, I watch as my boyfriend completely breaks down. “I’m so sorry, Lucy,” he says, his voice trembling as tears begin to flow from his eyes. “I never meant… I didn’t… It’s just that… well, Celine lets me do things in bed that you won’t,” he confesses in a rush.
I stare at him. I had hoped against hope that this affair was confined to messages only. Now my boyfriend is admitting that he’s been sleeping with someone else?
“I don’t know,” he continues, babbling nervously. “Maybe it’s because she’s French? But she lets me do backdoor, and I know you don’t like me even touching you there, and…”
“Shut up, Jasper,” I snap. People in the library are beginning to stare daggers at us for speaking so loudly. Some of them undoubtedly even overheard some sordid details, and my face burns in shame, embarrassment, and something completely new: hatred. “Just shut up,” I hiss again, stuffing my laptop back into my backpack. There’s nothing else I need to say to him. Except, I guess, for one thing.
“We’re done,” I grind out, meeting his gaze levelly. “This is done. I don’t ever want to see you again. Do not contact me, do not speak to me, do not even look at me.”
“Oh, no, Lucy, please,” Jasper apologizes, trying to take my hand. I swat him away, feeling tears prickle at my eyes again. I feel like the world’s biggest idiot. Why did I ever want a baby with this man? How did I believe that Jasper was fit to be a father? Clearly, everything I thought was wrong.