Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 108049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
“I’m gonna need to see some peer reviews on this data.”
Sasha flips me off.
“I’m just in time.” A tall guy in a Briar Basketball T-shirt appears in front of us. He’s sporting a bright toothpaste commercial smile and print model dimples.
Sasha must not be totally disgusted by him, because she takes the bait. “For what?”
“You two need another drink.” He nods at our nearly empty glasses and waves at the bartender. “Whatever they want, and a rum and Coke, please. Thank you.”
I don’t miss the pensive narrowing of Sasha’s eyes at his please and thank you. See, what’s important to understand about Sasha Lennox is that her best friend growing up was her great-grandmother on her father’s side, who at various stages in her life was a WWII Army mail carrier, a prison GED teacher, and briefly a Catholic nun. Which is to say, a boy with manners gets Sasha halfway to game time by just being polite.
“I’m Eric,” he tells us, flashing those well-maintained teeth at Sasha.
“Sasha,” she says coyly. “This is Taylor. She’d love to meet any tall, dark, and handsome friends you have lying around.”
I give her a cut-it-out glare, which she ignores. She’s too busy drowning in the depths of Eric’s…manners. He gives the all-clear to his buddies at a table across the room, and the two guys wind their way toward us with their beers. Their names are Joel and Danny, and the five of us get cozy and acquainted, Sasha and I craning our necks at the skyscrapers Briar’s recruiting as college basketball players these days.
When Danny shuffles a bit closer to me, Sasha digs her fingernails into my arm as a means of telling me she’s not letting me flee. I nudge her a few feet away so we can talk privately.
“I have a boyfriend,” I remind her. To which Sasha pops a sarcastic eyebrow. “I think.”
“You don’t have to jump on their dicks,” she replies. “Just smile and nod and drink up. A little harmless flirting won’t kill anyone.”
“If I saw Conor flirting with another girl—”
“But you’re not seeing him because he won’t return your texts. So pretend you’re alive for a few hours and enjoy yourself,” she says, pushing a shot at me after Danny insists on ordering us all tequila.
“To basketball,” Sasha raises her shot glass.
“To Kappa Chi,” Eric answers.
“To hockey,” I mutter under my breath.
After we down our shots, Sasha pulls out her phone and holds it up to grab a group selfie of the five of us.
“There,” she chirps.
“There what?”
She crops the image and adds a filter before posting the pic with several choice hashtags.
#girlsnight #kappachi #briaru #fuckpucks #bigballs
“Let Conor ignore this,” she says with a grin.
The thing is, I don’t want revenge. I don’t want to make him jealous or remind him what he’s missing. I just want to understand what changed.
Later, when I’m back at my apartment, getting into bed and trying to talk myself out of texting Conor again, I realize I missed a text from him earlier.
HIM: Sorry. Talk tomorrow. Goodnight.
Somehow, this is worse than him not responding at all.
28
Conor
A shrink would classify my behavior of this past week as self-destructive. Or at least that’s what Hunter’s girlfriend accused me of doing today, and Demi is halfway to being a shrink, so she’s legit. Apparently she ran into Taylor on campus earlier, prompting her to text me something along the lines of, “The fuck did you do to her???”
Which I can only take to mean I’ve managed to ruin Taylor, too. It’s nothing more than what I expected would happen. Exactly what I deserve. Can’t keep spraying perfume on the pile of crap and pretending it doesn’t stink.
I wanted to call her. I drove to Taylor’s apartment after the beach last weekend but couldn’t make myself go inside. I couldn’t lie to her face again and tell her everything’s fine. I’d rather have her think I’m just another asshole jock than know what I really am.
We’ve met up a couple times since then, grabbing coffee between classes on campus, but I’ve avoided her place and haven’t asked her over to mine. The coffee dates are already awkward enough, a solid hour where I can’t think of anything to say and she’s afraid to scare me off. And every text she sends wondering what’s wrong drives the knife a little deeper.
If I were a better person I’d tell her the truth. I’d come clean and let her look at me with those beautiful turquoise eyes full of betrayal and disgust. Let her call me a pathetic loser and watch her finally understand what I’d been too chickenshit to tell her all along: that she deserves better.
TAYLOR: You wanna come over tonight?
But I’m a coward. I keep telling myself that once I get rid of Kai, things with me and Taylor can go back to normal. I’ll make an excuse and she’ll reluctantly forgive me and then I can spend the next month winning her back.