Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“I think I’m all set here,” he says, and lol of course he isn’t going to kiss me. “But if I forgot anything, you can have Jake come pick it up.”
Jake: younger brother to West (and only slightly less good-looking) and that type of college friend who knows everything about my life at UCLA but has never met my father, who lives only an hour away. Jake introduced me to West; now Jake will be my sole remaining connection to West. The thought makes me a little sad, but then I remember I have the couch and T-virus zombies waiting for me inside.
“Sounds good,” I say.
“You’ve got copies of the papers?” he asks. “My attorney looked over everything, and it should be sorted, but his phone number is there in case there’s any issue.” He pauses, eyes searching mine in a way I honestly don’t think they have before, like he’s trying to see me for the first time. “My number will be the same, of course. Read through everything and call me if you have any questions.”
“Of course. Thanks for handling that.”
He smiles, and his face absolutely opens up when it happens. I wonder why he doesn’t do it more. Maybe he does, actually. I barely ever see him. He’s up before sunrise to go for a run and spends every waking hour at class or the library before hitting the gym around midnight. By contrast, I live at the art studio, or on his—now my—couch.
I’m not sure what else there is to say, so I try to wrap this up: “Congratulations on finishing, West. You must be so happy.”
“Absolutely,” he says, digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans. I’ve mostly seen him in basketball shorts and free marathon T-shirts, so the worn Levi’s and cozy gray T-shirt combo is a surprise this late in the game. I feel a little cheated to only be seeing it now. A tiny strip of his boxers waistband is visible and I work very hard to keep my eyes on his face. “Congratulations to you, too,” he adds. “On to new, big things.”
“Right,” I say, laughing. “The world breathlessly awaits my next move.”
He laughs, too, and the sound sends electricity scratching down my spine.
An awkward silence blankets us, but he’s staring directly at me, and I feel like I can’t look away. This is, like, eye contact eye contact. Like staring-contest eye contact, like studying a series of numbers to be memorized in a spy movie eye contact, and I force myself not to fold first.
“Well,” he says finally, “I guess that’s it, then.”
“I hope you have a good life.” It sounds trite, but I do mean it.
“You, too.” West smiles that eye-crinkling smile again, and damn, I really wish I’d seen it more. “Bye, Anna.”
“Bye, West.”
We shake hands. He turns, walking to the curb to meet his friends, who squeeze beside him into the truck’s cab. One of them rolls down the window, waving at me. I happily wave back, even though I have no idea what his name is.
I feel a body come up beside mine and turn my head to see our neighbor Candi in her bathrobe. She’s always in her bathrobe so I’ve long wondered what she does all day. But she makes a killer key lime pie and has loud sex with her husband, Rob, around midnight every day like clockwork, so clearly she’s crushing it.
“Are you moving?” she asks, looking behind me toward the mostly empty apartment.
“Oh, I’m moving in two weeks,” I tell her. “West just left.”
I feel her attention move from the empty apartment to the side of my face, and when I smile over at her, her blue eyes are round with worry. “Holy shit, Anna, I had no idea. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I tell her, looking down the street as the moving truck makes a turn and disappears from view entirely.
“Okay,” she says with a frown in her voice. “I’m glad.” She sets a hand on my arm. “But if you need to talk, you know I’m here, okay?”
I realize with a gust of happiness that the cover story doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve finished my bachelor’s and have a life of unknown adventure ahead; West has finished his doctorate and is on his way to his brilliant future as something impressive and serious. We both got what we wanted.
“Oh no, I’m fine!” I assure her. “I barely know him.”
Candi stares at me. “What?”
I point at the apartment behind me. “Family housing. He was just a random dude I married so I could live here. Thank you, though.”
With one last smile, I squeeze her hand where it rests on my arm and turn to go inside. I have zombies to kill.
One
ANNA
Three years later
If you’d told me back in college that my primary source of income at twenty-five would be working as the night cashier at the corner convenience store, I… well, I might have believed you. Having done a one-eighty junior year when I acknowledged that my brain does not “science” and pivoted from premed to art, I remained realistic about what life as an artist might entail. Every fine arts major at UCLA has dreams of becoming the next big set designer, costume mastermind, or art scene It kid, but those of us whose ambitions are simply “afford rent and health insurance” are aware we will most likely be waitresses by day and hobby painters by night. So the fact that it’s 12:44 a.m. and I am womaning the register at the Pico Pick-It-Up and not at some fancy party rubbing elbows with the creative elite shouldn’t surprise anyone, least of all myself.