Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“What? No. Fuck that. I have plans with Whit.” Is it even a party if I’m not there? I don’t think it is.
“Bring her,” Jack says.
“Do you know her?” Casey replies, making a face that says he’s hoping she doesn’t go.
“Be nice, fucker,” I tell him. My friends aren’t the biggest fans of my girl, and she wishes each and every one of them would die a fiery death. It’s a whole-ass thing. I try to stay neutral, but it doesn’t always work that way. “We need a little more time to plan and get people here. Let’s do the party tomorrow night.” I say a silent prayer that this strategy will work. I have no doubt if we announce a party at our place tonight, people will show, but maybe I can talk them into believing we need more time to plan. “I mean, almost everyone did just get back today.”
“True,” Avery replies.
Fuck yes. Score for me.
“Plus, some people might not get back to campus until tomorrow morning,” I add, trying to push my agenda even more. The thing is, I’d rather be at a party tonight than with Whit, which probably makes me the worst boyfriend of all time and not a very good person either, but I just want to have fun and not feel like I’m fucking up, which is what she always makes me feel. I try to do everything right but still end up screwing stuff up. I’m a bit of a disaster.
“Okay, party tomorrow night,” Jack says.
We end up in the living room, playing video games and making plans for the next day. I leave them early to go shower and get ready for my plans with Whitney. Even though I want to hang with my boys, I would have ditched the party if they’d had it tonight.
I wear a polo with my jeans, trying to look nice, then head over to San Luco Flowers to get roses for her. They’re her favorite. While I can’t really afford them, I like to do nice things for people. It makes me feel good.
Whitney lives in a sorority house. When I knock, one of her friends answers and lets me in. Whit is upstairs, getting ready, and the four women in the room downstairs are all quiet and looking at me funny.
“Do I have something on my face? In my teeth?” I ask, trying to get a laugh. “I know my shirt’s not on backward since I wore the annoying collared one.” I hate collars. And polos. I only wear them because she likes them.
“You’re so silly, Theo,” Cindy tells me. “You’re always good for a laugh.”
I mean, it’s not a bad compliment. I like to be funny, but I also hope I have a little more going for me than just that.
Before I have the chance to say anything else, Whitney comes downstairs. She’s beautiful, with long, blonde hair, a little button nose, and a sinful mouth. I have to admit there’s a little jump in my pulse at seeing her, and not just because of her looks. Whit and I used to have fun together, and I’d like to figure out how to get back there.
“Hey. I missed you.” I walk over and give her a hug. She returns it and takes the flowers.
“Thanks, Theo.”
She hands them to Cindy, and I feel a small stab of disappointment, unsure if I have the right to feel it or not. What does it matter if she is the one to put them in a vase or if her friend does it for her? I’m being ridiculous.
I take her hand as we head for the door, trying to be sweet and attentive, but she just gives me one squeeze and pulls away.
Okay, no hand-holding tonight. Got it.
I open the door for her because I’m a fucking gentleman, and then do the same with my shitty car. The door squeaks and I wince, not that it should matter. I’m broke, and that’s just the way it is.
“Tell me about your summer,” I say as I start driving to the restaurant. We spoke, of course, but I want to hear it all from her in person.
Whitney begins talking about all the fun things she did and the trips she took and all her friends back home. Even Cindy went to see her, though they don’t live in the same state.
I wonder why she didn’t ask me to do that with her. It would have been tough to make it happen due to lack of funds, but I would have tried. Maybe if we’d gotten some quality time together this summer, things wouldn’t feel as strained between us right now.
She talks the whole way to the Italian restaurant, which is her favorite. I wait for her to mention it, but she doesn’t. Am I supposed to want her to acknowledge where I brought her? I don’t fucking know. Two years in, and dating is still hard.