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)
A couple hours later
Cecelia pulled in front of my apartment and put the car in park.
“So?” she asked. “How did it feel to go out and get hammered like a normal college student?”
“I refuse to answer that truthfully.”
“It’s okay.” She unbuckled her seatbelt. “I can see the thrill all over your face.”
Stepping out, she walked to my side and opened the door for me.
“Need help getting inside?” she asked.
“No, but—” I grabbed my purse. “Can you check the mail at the center and set it inside for me?”
“Of course!” She waited until I made it to my front door before walking down to the neighborhood hub.
After unlocking the door, I stepped inside and hit the lights.
“I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever come home tonight.” A familiar deep voice made me turn to my left.
“Craig?” I asked. “Is that you?”
“Who else would it be, babe?”
He stepped from behind the couch, and my jaw dropped to the floor. Buck naked—with the exception of a bright red “Congratulations” tie—he pointed to his half-hardened cock and smiled at me.
“Want to get him completely ready for a ride?”
“How did you get in here without a key?”
“That’s not the topic of conversation, babe,” he said. “Focus on what’s in front of you.”
I mentally calculated how many drinks I’d had tonight, and none of them amounted to a potential hallucination with my ex-boyfriend swinging his half-erect cock in my apartment.
“Um…” I cleared my throat. “I could’ve sworn we broke up three weeks ago.”
“Yeah, but we always get back together, so I figured we’d make up with sex this time.” He grinned. “I think that’s all we’ve been missing anyway.”
“You cheated on me.”
“That was in the past.”
“I literally caught you three weeks ago, hence the breakup…”
“That’s still in the past, is it not?” he asked. “Surely, Miss Super Writer doesn’t need a lesson on past versus present tense from me.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I accepted all your flaws when we were dating.” He stepped closer. “You should accept mine, too.”
“Cheating isn’t a basic flaw, Craig. It’s a fucking fatal one.”
“Then let’s revive it before I start med school,” he said. “I won’t have much time for talking on the phone or going on dates, so…” He smiled wider. “So, stop acting stubborn, hop on this dick, and let’s get back together.”
I shook my head. There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to make me make this level of a mistake.
Scanning the room, I looked for where he’d dropped his clothes and saw them draped on my couch. I walked over and picked them up before tossing them at him.
“I would like for you to leave, Craig.” I kept my voice firm. “Now.”
“That’s what your mouth is saying,” he said. “But what about your body?”
My front door suddenly swung open, and Cecelia stepped inside, her arms loaded with letters and packages.
“Hey, I went ahead and—” Her jaw dropped as she saw Craig. “Uhhh... I’ll just come back tomorrow.”
“Good idea.”
“No, stay.” Craig and I spoke at the same time.
Cecelia blinked between us.
“I was giving Audrey her graduation present,” Craig said, not making a move to put on his clothes. “You can drop those inferior ones at the door and leave. Thank you.”
“Craig was just leaving,” I said, refusing to make this any more awkward. “And if it’s not within the next thirty seconds, I’m calling the cops.”
“Really, Audrey?” He scoffed. “You seriously would do that?”
“Twenty-nine… Twenty-eight…”
“Well, fine then.” He put on his pants, finally. “Good luck finding a man who would put up with you like I did.”
“You don’t have to talk to get dressed…”
“No man is going to want to deal with your emotional issues or your bullshit long nights of writing, which are just excuses because you don’t know how to be close to someone who actually likes you.” He pulled on his shirt. “Spoiler alert: You’ll die alone.”
He walked out, and Cecelia slammed the door behind him.
“I told you that man was delusional months ago.” Cecelia set the mail down on my coffee table. “I won’t waste another second on him, though.”
“Thank you.”
She picked up a huge navy blue envelope that was sealed in deep blue wax. Then she pointed at the sender’s name.
The Postscript Scholars Program.
My heart flipped in my chest, and my fingers trembled, but I couldn’t bring myself to grab it.
“I can’t open it,” I whispered. “You do it.”
“You think they’d waste money on this type of pretty packaging for a rejection, Audrey?”
“I won’t know until you open it.”
“Okay.” She smiled. “Gladly.”
She tore it open with dramatic flair, eyes scanning the contents before gasping. “You got in! Full scholarship. Tuition, board, and their Luxury Graduate accommodations.”
I blinked. “You’re joking.”
“I would never joke about free luxury housing.” She flipped to the next page. “Ewwww!”
“What?”
“There’s a schedule here for like five classes a day, and it says you have to teach some high school students for five hours a week, too…” She squinted. “This is like—college all over again—but without the fun and ten times the work.”