Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
And that’s the last thing I remembered thinking about when I woke up some time later.
Pushing up to my elbows, I was now the only student in the class. Trinity sat at the front of the room writing in a journal. “Oh my God,” I said. “I can’t believe I fell asleep. I’m so sorry. How long was I out?”
She shut her book. “Not too long. And there’s nothing to apologize for. I take students falling asleep in meditation class as a compliment.”
I stretched my arms over my head and bent to the left, then the right. “I can’t remember the last time I napped. Maybe in college?”
“You must’ve needed it.” She smiled. “I have another class in a few minutes. You’re welcome to join. But if you go out to the gazebo on the west side of the building, you’ll probably catch a beautiful sunset right about now. I sometimes sit there at this time when I don’t have a class to teach.”
“Oh. That sounds great.” I stood and rolled up my mat. “I think I’ll do that.”
I walked outside and was greeted by a lavender-and-pink sky. The setting sun cast a golden glow over the trees surrounding the gazebo. It was so still and peaceful, and I realized I felt more relaxed than I had in ages. Maybe there was something to this mediation stuff after all? Or maybe there was something to fantasizing about a certain lumberjack. I wasn’t sure which it was, but I sat quietly, enjoying the serenity. When it grew dark, I made my way back inside and decided to stop at the business center. Patients weren’t allowed to use cell phones or electronic devices, but we were allowed fifteen minutes a day of computer time to take care of whatever we needed to. I generally used my time to email my administrative assistant, Oliver, who also happens to be my closest friend.
But today, I was so relaxed that I decided not to ruin it with work. Instead, I typed a quick note to my sister, letting her know I was doing okay. After, I still had a few minutes of time left, so I went on Instagram and typed in Brock Hawkins. Not surprisingly, he didn’t seem to have an account. But while I was on, I noticed a tag from Morgan, so I clicked to see what kind of nonsense she’d posted today that had probably gotten a few hundred-thousand likes.
The video was of her smiling at the camera. I recognized the background as her room here. She nibbled her bottom lip before whispering, “I just read the dirtiest text I’ve ever read in my life.” She fanned herself. “I had no idea that mountain men could be so descriptive. I need to get out of the big city more often.”
I froze. Mountain men?
“If y’all want me to read another Tinder message, just like this video. If we hit half a million, I’ll read another. A million? I’ll read two!”
Tinder! Oh no.
Whatever calm I’d been feeling was replaced by a racing heart. I clicked to sign off from my Instagram account and rushed back to my room—only to find Brock’s cell no longer under my pillow. Damn it! I sprinted to Morgan’s room and found her sitting on her bed, holding her cell out and talking like she was recording.
“Where is it?”
She lowered her phone. “Where’s what?”
“Brock’s phone. I know you have it, Morgan.”
She pouted. “God, your face is so tense. You should try one of the meditation classes they offer here.”
“I don’t need meditation, Morgan. I need Brock’s phone!”
She rolled her eyes but opened the bedside table and slipped out the cell. “One of us had to go through it. You don’t know anything about this guy you keep sneaking out to see.”
“I’m not sneaking out to see Brock, and neither of us needs to know anything about his personal life.”
Morgan grinned. “Not even about the app he has that controls a vibrator remotely? Or the pictures of his giant dick and washboard abs? What about the texts from his ex that say she can’t stop thinking about how hard he fucks her? At least let me tell you about those.” She looked down at her cell phone and turned it to show me the screen. “Four-hundred-and-twenty-thousand people want me to tell them about the Tinder messages, and it’s only been fifteen minutes since I asked if they wanted to hear another one.”
I frowned. “I can’t believe you think it’s okay to invade a person’s privacy like this. It’s wrong, Morgan.”
She shrugged. “Maybe. But if what that man wrote is wrong, I don’t want to be right.”
“You’re unbelievable,” I huffed and marched out of the room with the cell phone.
Morgan yelled after me. “Wait! What will I read to my followers? I promised them two more messages!”