Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Oh, yes. Failure.
“It’s nothing. I just…I didn’t get the part,” I mumbled unhappily.
“Oh. I’m sorry. That sucks.”
I nodded and released a jagged sigh. “Yeah. You know what really sucks? Sophie told me Jacques wants to make me his assistant. And I’ll probably do it, because what the fuck else am I going to do this summer? This isn’t one of Shakespeare’s more famous plays, but it’s my last chance to be part of something special. I’m going back to school to position myself for a great career in finance. How fucking boring is that? ‘We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.’ ”
“Uh…that’s Shakespeare, right?”
“Yes, it’s from The Tempest. And someday soon, I won’t remember that ’cause I’ll be up to my eyeballs in numbers and projects and—fuck.” I swiped my hand through my hair in frustration. “I need to go organize the ice cream section at the market.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unload on you. It’s a fresh wound. And to make matters worse, Sophie wants to ‘make things better,’ ” I said with air quotes.
Elliot chuckled. “Ouch. So, she’s going to find you a summer hookup.”
“How’d you guess?”
“She’s a hopeless romantic. And…she left me a cryptic message about friends dating exes. She probably wants to set you up with Anna.”
“You don’t care if she sets me up with your ex?” I asked incredulously.
He shrugged. “Why would I? Just because it didn’t work out for us doesn’t mean it won’t work out for you.”
I gaped at him for a solid ten seconds, then shook my head. “Yeah, well, I’m not interested. And as much as I don’t want to talk about stuff…we have to establish some house rules.”
“Rules,” Elliot repeated.
“It’s not the worst thing in the world. It’s summer, and now it looks like we’re both going to be at the beach a lot. Maybe if we leave a towel by the door and agree to wipe our feet off, we can avoid getting sand everywhere. If we take turns sweeping every day, it won’t be a big deal. Same with cleaning the bathroom.”
“You want to clean the bathroom every day?” he yelped.
“No, but it would be nice if you picked up your clothes and didn’t drop your wet towels on the floor. It’s common courtesy, dude. I can’t believe Sophie didn’t say something.”
“She said she liked to clean.”
“And you believed her?” I asked incredulously as I paced from one side of the island to the other. “She must have had a crush on you if she was willing to pick up your nasty-ass boxers. I’m not doing it anymore.”
Elliot snorted. “I don’t know whose boxers you’re picking up, but they’re not mine. I usually go commando.”
“Yeah, well—wait.” I stopped in my tracks and cocked my head. “You don’t wear underwear? Not even with jeans?”
“No. Never.”
Of course my eyes went straight to his crotch. And of course he noticed. I cleared my throat. “I didn’t need to know that.”
“You asked,” he teased.
“I did not.” I marched to the stove, adjusted the heat, and picked up the spoon, cautiously avoiding his gaze as I stirred the contents.
“Did too.” Elliot chuckled, raising his hands in surrender when I gave him a dirty look. He moved around the kitchen, closing cabinets and drawers until he unearthed a notebook and a pen. “I have an idea. Let’s make a list. Why don’t you tell me all the chores that need to be done? I’ll write them down and we can divide them in half. Everything you did this week, I’ll do next week. Sound good?”
His earnest expression made it hard to hold on to anger or embarrassment. “Yeah.”
Elliot grinned. “Okay. Name some other chores.”
I stirred the turkey and onions, reciting a few chores off the top of my head and apparently adding a couple of jobs he hadn’t considered.
“Why are you looking at me like that? Taking out the trash is a basic.”
“Sure, but whoever runs across a full trash can first should empty it. Why make it a planned event?”
“Normally I’d agree with you, but you let the trash tragically overflow before you consider it full, and that ain’t right.”
“I don’t do that.”
“You totally do that.”
He scoffed good-naturedly. “Are you gonna make me clean my room too, Mom?”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, we’re not sharing a bedroom, so I don’t care what you do in there. It doesn’t matter to me if you never make your bed or change your sheets.”
“I change the sheets, but making a bed every day seems like a waste of energy. Just gonna mess it up later anyway.”
“Oh, boy.” I sighed.
“Maybe I should get a futon like you. Is that thing comfortable?”
“Not really.” I inclined my head toward the stove. “The meat is done. Do you want to take over?”