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)
I hung up and threw my hands at the universe.
Please stop fucking with me now. Please…
TRACK 11. WOULD’VE, COULD’VE, SHOULD’VE (2:58)
TAYLOR
Icouldn’t remember the last time I woke up this early and only had to worry about class.
It felt surreal, but as I looked down at the cast on my right wrist, the Bears playbook on my desk, and the ‘Heal Up Soon!’ bouquet from the team owner on my windowsill, I accepted that this was reality.
The only thing I had to worry about throwing down for a while were words on a page.
After pulling on a university hoodie and a pair of blue jeans, I stepped into the hallway and caught a glimpse of Audrey rushing out the front door moments before me.
Of course…
Not wanting to share the elevator with her, I waited a few minutes before making my way across campus for orientation.
Other scholars walked alongside me, but no one seemed to give a damn about who I was. Even though I felt a few stares on my back as I settled near the rear of the auditorium, no one said anything.
As a staff member rearranged chairs onstage, the redhead sitting in front of me turned around.
“I’m Janet,” she whispered, extending her hand. “Janet Daws.”
“Taylor Wolff.”
“Well, duh.” She rolled her eyes. “Just so you know, I don’t care that you’re a super-rich and hot athlete with a big dick.”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s not going to distract me from winning a scholarship at the end of this program, and I refuse to believe that you can write as well as a single person in this room.”
I blinked.
“They let you in because of your privilege, and I know you’re taking the spot that belongs to someone far more deserving.”
I pulled my hand back just in case her crazy was contagious.
“Sleep with one eye open, you non-writing motherfucker.” She huffed before moving to another seat far away from me.
Surviving Audrey was one thing, but I wasn’t sure if I could handle being here if everyone was as unhinged as she was.
I flipped through the program and heard a round of deep whispers behind me.
“Who the hell is that?”
“Why wasn’t she at the bar with us last night?”
“Damn…”
I looked up to see who the guys were talking about and spotted Audrey walking down the aisle.
No longer wearing the sexy oversized T-shirt I was trying not to think about, she was in a light blue dress that clung to her curves in all the right ways. Her curls were swept into a side ponytail that fell past her shoulders.
My chest tightened before I could stop it. I told myself it was annoyance, not attraction—but the lie burned all the same.
Forcing myself to look away, I pulled out my phone.
Stacey
Hey babe! Good luck on your first day of class! (It’s “class,” right?)
Nick (Agent)
Don’t forget—meeting with Young Pros tonight via Zoom at 8 p.m., and Nike wants your feedback on a few mockups when you can. [img] [img] [img]
Coach
Nerds don’t get pussy. Remember that while you’re writing.
I made a mental note to keep my phone turned off during the morning from here on out.
“Well, hello there, Postscript scholars!” A man in all black tapped the mic onstage. “Good morning!”
“Good morning,” all hundred of us answered in unison.
“Me and the professors are happy you all could join us for one of the most intensive writing programs in the country.”
“As you know, just completing this program is a golden ticket to any graduate program you choose, and it’ll open literary doors all over the world. Alas, the top spot and the top ten scholars will receive quite the benefits package.”
I flipped to the back page, reading through the list.
“We look forward to challenging you to turn in your best writing yet, and to face your younger years with the type of inner reflection that comes with what you now have: time.”
There hasn’t been enough time…
“Remember, there’s no shame in dropping out of this program if it becomes too much for you,” he said. “Being accepted here is one hell of an accomplishment, and you’ll always be a Postscript Scholar no matter what. Now, onto who you’ll be learning from…”
One by one, he introduced each of the professors, made a few suggestions about handling “the heaviest course load on the planet,” and then clapped his hands.
“Alright, that’s it!” He smiled. “You’re now dismissed to whatever’s on your schedule.”
For me, that meant Critical Essay Critique, followed by teaching a small class for gifted boarding school students who stayed on the other side of campus.
There were a few book assignments after that, but I’d already read all of them years ago.
With Audrey…
Pushing away the thought, I took the long route to the conference center that housed my first class.
Five guys and three women came next, then Audrey, and then the professor.
As the professor approached the whiteboard and went over her syllabus, I couldn’t focus on a single word she said; I was too fixated on Audrey and the way she was biting her bottom lip. The way every guy in the room noticed.