Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“Thank you.” I nod as everyone sits. “Let me start by saying I did not plan any speech. In fact, I was going to say thank you and get back to class.” Everyone laughs, and a few yell. “I am truly honored to be a part of this distinguished community. I’m humbled by being able to teach and hopefully inspire. I did this job because it was something that I loved. Confucius once said, Choose a job you love and you’ll never have to work a day in your life.” I look around at my mom and dad who nod and smile proudly at me.
“I live by that,” I continue. “I have been privileged to study, teach, and become a dean at CAU and have never felt like I’ve worked a day.”
The crowd claps, and I hear someone yell, “Dean Powers!”
“Which might make what I’m about to say come as a surprise to some because I will not be accepting this position.”
Richard stands. Hushed tones run through the crowd.
“I have too much respect for this university, and therefore cannot take on this leadership role. I will stay focused on my important research and the ‘National Science Trust Prize’ that I am confident will lead to an energy solution and elevate the world’s poor out of poverty.” Richard is at my side saying something that I can’t hear over all the noise. I glance over at Jenners and nod. He looks stunned as people pat his shoulder like he just won the lottery.
And for him, maybe he has.
“Please tell Diane to forgive me. Tell her she can have Jett’s house in Italy for a month, but I need to go.” I grin at Richard and walk off the stairs. Not waiting to hear anything he’s going to say, I make my way to my bike. Straddling it, I start it up.
I don’t look back.
I don’t answer my phone.
My blood pumps as I lean low, gunning it out of the parking lot. That old feeling of adrenaline floods through me, but this time I’m not seeking it out. I’m racing to it. Alex is my rush. Nothing compares to her: not surfing, not my bike, none of it.
She was worth the risk.
She’s the best rule I’ve ever broken.
ALEXANDREA
I rub my sore nose as I stare at my Honda. I either packed better on the way out, or have gotten more stuff, because I’m not sure it can hold any more. I mean, it’s weighed down so much it actually looks lower.
“God.” I huff, glancing over at a strangely quiet dog. He just sits watching me through the gate, his tail wagging sporadically.
“Now, you want to be friends?” I ask him, taking the band from my wrist and pulling my wet hair into a messy bun.
“I’m gonna need another shower by the time I’m done with this, Walter.” I sigh, looking over at him. He whines and jumps up excitedly.
I reach down for a duffel bag that I couldn’t even zip because I’ve stuffed too many clothes in it, ignoring the pain as I see my pink Jimmy Choo sandals, and try to shove it in the trunk. God, this probably isn’t even going to close.
My phone rings on the step as I run over and grab it.
“Hey.”
“What the hell, Alex? You are not the only one with shit going on,” Jude snaps.
“I’m sorry. I was going to call right back, but you said you had class, and I had to deal with Skylar,” I snap right back as I sit on the step and look out at the beautiful day, ready to start crying again because I hate the Ohio winters, and I really want a dog.
“What is her problem?” Jude sounds like he’s walking as I hear him say, “’Sup.”
“Apparently, she hates us, me, because of Mom. Whatever, she’s the least of my problems. If anything good comes out of me coming home, it’s that I don’t ever have to see her again.” I shake my head and wave at the mail lady across the street.
“Alex, you are not coming home.” He growls.
“Yes, I am. I’m already packed. I’m through, I can’t…” I bite my lip as my voice cracks, then start crying.
“I’m a mess, and I hate cold weather, and I can barely breathe because I’ve cried so much, and I can’t—”
“Time the fuck out,” Jude yells over my rant confession. “You’re not quitting and coming back here. No fucking way. We do not quit. You’ve worked too hard. Dreamed about the beach and Southern California your whole life. Now who is this dickhead you say dumped you? I want a name?” he demands.
“I can’t tell you his name, and it doesn’t matter. He’s off limits, it’s my own fault, and I’m done. I can’t stay here, don’t you get it? My heart hurts so bad it burns. It’s like all I want to do is lean over and… try to make it better, but it doesn’t.” I yell into the phone, only to be greeted with silence.