Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 51243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
“Obviously. I’d also appreciate it if you could treat me like any other stranger.”
“Come again?”
“We have a history, but I’ve spent the past several years trying to erase all of our pages, so… I would prefer it if you didn’t allude to anything in the past.” I kept my voice firm. “You’re here to write and compete, as am I, and we’re roommates. That’s the end of our connection.”
“I assure you that we don’t have a connection at all, Audrey.”
“Exactly.” I shrugged. “I’d prefer if you didn’t write about me in any of your work here or bring me up in conversation with any of our fellow cohorts.”
“If you honestly think that you cross my mind enough to make it into anything I’ve ever written, you’re still as delusional as you were on the day I first fucking met you.”
“I just met you today, remember?”
“Right.” He clenched his jaw. “Anything else, Miss Parker?”
“No, that would be all, Mr. Wolff.” I smiled. “I actually like this formality. We should keep it that way.”
He shot me a pointed look, but he didn’t protest.
“Two professors dropped by with updated syllabi while you were away,” he said. “I slid them under your door.”
“Thanks.”
He didn’t say “You’re welcome.”
“One more thing,” I said, itching to get him out of my sight. “I think we should establish some type of communication system—just for emergencies.”
“You mean, like our cell phones?”
“No, no,” I said. “We can just use one of the social media messengers if something comes up, right? You can choose which one.”
“That’ll only work if you unblock me.”
Nope, never. “In that case, we can use the program’s messenger board.”
“Or you can be an adult and give me your phone number.”
“It’s the same as it’s always been.”
“No, it’s not.” His eyes darkened as he stepped closer to me. “You changed it last year…”
“How would you know?”
He didn’t answer. He just stared at me.
“I doubt there’s anything we’ll need to talk about.” I glanced at my luggage, then back at him. “I’m going to unpack my stuff and—”
He walked away from me before I could finish my sentence, slamming the door on his way out.
The sound reverberated through the suite, settling somewhere between my chest and the ache I swore I didn’t still feel.
TRACK 9. …READY FOR IT? (3:11)
TAYLOR
Clang! Clang! Clangggg!
Those annoying sounds echoed from the kitchen for the umpteenth time tonight.
Assuming they were coming from some faulty pipes, I rolled over in my bed and groaned. Then I grabbed my phone to check the time.
2 a.m.
Annoyed, I opened my text messages and immediately wished I hadn’t.
Nick (Agent)
Hey, I know you’re starting the writing thing this week, but call me whenever you grab breakfast.
I need to clarify a few things before talking to Fox Sports Live in the afternoon.
Stacey
Are you sure you HAVE to stay on campus? Why not a hotel nearby? (Or maybe ask them if I can stay on campus, too…) xoxo
Dr. Gautsch
Be sure to complete those finger exercises I sent you every day. They’ll help with your recovery.
I checked to make sure my alarm was still set for 6:15 — enough time to make it to this morning’s orientation.
Shutting my eyes, I started to drift to sleep again.
Pstchhh! Ptshhhh! Ptshhh!
BAH-DOOMPH!
“Jesus.” I got out of bed and headed to the kitchen.
To my surprise, there weren’t any busted pipes.
It was Audrey.
Dressed in an oversized T-shirt and workout shorts, holding a pot high above her head, poised to drop it on the floor.
“It’s two in the fucking morning,” I said. “What the hell are you doing?”
She dropped the pot, forcing a loud clang to echo off the walls, then walked over to the table and scribbled something in her notebook.
“Audrey.” I raised my voice, and she looked over at me — removing one of her earbuds.
“May I help you with something?” she asked.
“You can stop making so much noise this early in the morning,” I said. “I didn’t think we needed to set rules for something as simple as that.”
“They sent out the first surprise essay assignment, ‘Onomatopoeia,’ that’s due this weekend,” she said. “I was just brushing up on the different ways the sounds could be described.”
I stared at her.
“I’m not making it up,” she said, picking up a few of the pots. “They sent it out at midnight — typical for the first two weeks of ‘hell’ that everyone who’s ever done this has warned about, you know?”
She bent over and picked up more of her mess, and I brushed away the dirty thoughts flooding my mind.
“Now that I’ve explained myself and alerted you to the surprise essay—”
“I knew about that damn essay,” I interrupted. “And I just pulled up ‘pans falling,’ ‘shattered glass,’ and ‘kitchen sounds’ on YouTube like a normal fucking person.”
“Oh…” Her lips fell open and her cheeks reddened.
“Exactly,” I said, stepping back. “Cut this shit out, and let’s set 7 a.m. as the time for noise in the shared parts of the suite, shall we?”