Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
We’d gotten this apartment at a steal. I didn’t know how Seth had worked his magic to get our place at the price we had it. I knew that if I was short for my portion of rent, Seth could cover me with no problem, but I refused to ever let him do that. I didn’t care what I had to do, I’d pay my own way.
I took a quick shower, then got dressed in a long-sleeved crop top and a pair of tight blue jeans. The rainy season would be coming to Portland soon, but today it was going to be nice. There wasn’t enough time to put my makeup on, which sucked because I had an exam and my makeup always made me feel…stronger, if that made sense. Probably not, so I never told people that.
The second I went to the kitchen, Seth handed me a bowl of eggs, which I scarfed down quickly, even though they tasted like my toothpaste. Then I was out the door and on my way to campus. Luckily, it was only a ten-minute walk. I didn’t have a car.
My professor eyed me through his glasses when I walked inside, right on time. They were passing papers from person to person, and I held my breath, praying he wouldn’t tell me I was too late to take the quiz, but he didn’t, so I could finally breathe and get this shit done. The semester had just started, and there was already a test, which wasn’t a good sign. I’d worked the night before, then studied late because I sure as shit planned to ace this thing.
There was some pressure behind my eyes, and I hoped like hell my headache wasn’t coming back.
I was the last person finished, but I didn’t let that bother me. When I handed my packet to my professor, he didn’t look at me as he said, “You cut it close today, Jesse.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” A hundred excuses sat on my tongue—I had a million things on my plate. I worked late. Studied late. Had a headache. Was trying to do all this shit on my own. But I didn’t offer any of them.
“You’re smart as hell. All your other professors have said so. And I know it’s unusual to get quizzes this early, but you’ll see I don’t do things like others do. You have a passion for this, and I want to see you do well, so try and give yourself a little more time and rest, okay?”
“I’m trying,” I replied, and I really fucking was.
He nodded at me, and I bailed. Fuck, why did everything have to be so goddamned stressful all the time? Before I let myself get too down, I squared my shoulders and walked on. God, I wished I had my makeup on, wished I had eyes on me, which likely made me a conceited asshole, but hey, somehow, that helped.
When I got to the large, white building with pillars in front, where I lived, I shook my head. After a year, I still wasn’t used to this shit. The elevator was a smooth ride up. I’d just walked into our apartment, when my cell rang. Seth would be gone by then, and I had a feeling whom the call was from. For a moment, I almost didn’t pull it out of my pocket, but then I did and wasn’t surprised to see Mom flashing across the screen. We had a complicated relationship, to say the least.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Jesse. It’s your mama,” she said, as if I didn’t know who it was.
“Hey, Ma. How are you?”
“Doing fine,” she replied, then talked about the cows and chickens—eggs and milk—on the farm back home. From there she went on to Dad and the long hours he put in and how his back was bothering him, which was all a way to make me feel guilty for not being there. For having my own dreams. For not being willing to die a slow, painful death by staying there and not being who I was. “How are you?” she finally asked.
“I’m okay. I had an exam today. I’m pretty sure I aced it. I work tonight.”
Mom sighed. “I don’t know why you work at that place. Those people…”
“Those people are me, Ma.”
She was quiet for a moment, and I knew she was crying. This was the part that made it hard. I knew my parents loved me. I knew they wanted what they thought was best for me. They would never disown me, but they didn’t understand me. They didn’t agree with the person I was. “But it doesn’t have to be. Mary Louise said her son thought he was that way. He went off to this place where—”
“I’m not doing this with you again. I can’t do this today. I’m going to go before I say something I regret.”