Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 178117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 891(@200wpm)___ 712(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 178117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 891(@200wpm)___ 712(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
I grin and offer her a hand. “You’re my new roommate. Name’s Penelope.”
“Penelope … nice!” She shakes my hand. “I’m Kayla Pearce. So this is your first semester here at Spine Ridge U, too, right?” she asks. “I didn’t see you at the orientation.”
I make a face. “Yeah. I transferred late, so I missed it.”
Her face pops. “Oh really? Before even starting at the other university? I didn’t even know that was possible.”
I shrug. “This university has … more opportunities.” I clear my throat before I say too much.
“Well, it was a good decision because now you’re my roomie.” She winks. “And I already know you and I are gonna be besties.”
I smile at her. “You sure about that? I can get mad weird.”
She laughs. “Even better.” She empties her suitcase, and all the dresses and pants tumble out in one big pile. “Wow, I really brought too many clothes.”
“Never too many clothes, right?” I wink.
She smirks. “See, you get it. Crystal always tells me my suitcase might explode, but I know how to fucking pack.”
“Crystal?” I muse. “Another roomie, or…?”
“My best friend at this university,” she replies as I tug at the zipper of my suitcase. “We met a few weeks ago at the bonfire.”
Bonfire—
I rip open the zipper so wildly it breaks off.
Kayla comes to stand beside me. “Oh, well, I’ve got a small repair kit. Maybe we can fix that.”
“It’s fine,” I lie, quickly chucking it in the trash. “It was about to give out anyway.” I grab some clothes and hang them in the closet to try to get my mind off the word she said. “So best friend, huh? I’d love to meet her.”
“Maybe we have some of the same classes.” Her eyes glimmer as she grabs her schedule. “Wanna compare?” She gasps and grabs her phone. “Before I forget, can I have your number? I mean, since we’re roomies and all, we might as well hang out.”
“Sure.” I grab my phone and give it to her. “Go ahead.”
She enters her number into mine while I enter mine into hers.
“There,” she says, handing it back to me.
I give her phone back too and grab my schedule. We place them both on the table next to each other. Her courses are similar but not the same. Only a few overlap later in the week.
And then I check today.
My eyes almost bulge out of my skull. I have a class in about ten minutes. How did I not know this?
“Oh my God.” I quickly grab what I need and shove it into my backpack.
“Late?” Kayla asks.
I nod. “I’ll talk to you later!”
“Was nice meeting you. Good luck on your first class!” she yells as I rush out the door.
Of course I’m late again. Typical. I already missed the orientation because I was too late applying to the university. I can’t fucking miss my first class too.
I guess that’s what you get for switching universities at the last minute.
Though it’s nice that I’ve already made a new friend.
I don’t make those very easily.
On my way out of the building, several students wave at me and say hi, so I quickly say hi back and hurry. I’ll stop and chat later because I don’t have enough time right now.
Class is almost starting, and I have to run all the way to the other side of campus.
I should really get a bike.
I dash across the pavement, ignoring the noise coming from the fraternity across the street, and head straight for the big buildings.
A lot of students sit outside in the grass, eating a quick breakfast, talking with each other, and playing games and football. And then there's me, running around like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to find the entrance.
When I finally make it, I pause to catch my breath with my hands on my knees, sweat dripping down my back. It takes me a few seconds before I can finally look around. It’s as gorgeous inside as it looked outside, with wooden panels and large paintings all around, old oak doors leading into classrooms, big, wooden, circular staircases, and giant glass panes to show off the garden view.
Lots of money flows into this university—that much is clear.
But it’s also easy to tell, judging from the Prada, Gucci, and Louboutin that some of the students around me are wearing.
I feel wholly out of place in my Diesel jeans here.
Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I make my way to the classroom, checking my notes again and again to make sure I’m going the right way. I’ve managed to keep the panic at bay for a while now, but it’s slowly creeping up on me now that I’m running late. Because if there’s anything I don’t do, it’s being late.
I got that trait from my father, who’s punctual to the littlest of details.