Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Right before winter break, I’d presented sketches of my ideas to my instructor. He’d called them uninspired, and he was right. It didn’t help that the critical voice in my head heard that as you’re not good enough.
When a drop of water landed on the fabric in my hands, I swore under my breath and quickly blotted it away with the hem of my cardigan. Why was I crying? I was going to ruin the silk.
I stuck the needle into an inner seam and pushed my chair back. Fuck, I hated this. I hated feeling broken, and weak.
Crying wouldn’t help. I knew that, but the tears kept coming.
I was so fucking tired. It felt like I’d been running at a flat-out sprint for the last two years, but I couldn’t stop now. I had to finish this. I had to build a future for myself.
I had to leave the past behind.
There was so much hurt, anger, and pain in my rearview mirror. If I stopped running, it would all catch up to me.
I moved from the chair to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. Sobs shook me, and I curled into myself.
At one point, a couple of my housemates started having a conversation right outside my closed door. It was okay, though. I’d taught myself to be completely silent when I cried. That way, no one had to know.
2
Hal
If I hadn’t had that mini breakdown and spent two hours crying in my room, I probably wouldn’t have ended up in Las Vegas a few days later. I knew something had to give—not that I would have chosen such a drastic change of scenery on my own.
In the middle of the week, my housemate Embry announced he was going to marry some guy he’d just met. It was all for show, because the guy’s family wouldn’t give him his inheritance unless he was married. Pretty archaic if you asked me, but okay.
Our entire household went to meet this man, whose name was Bryson. We were the closest thing Embry had to a family, so all of us made a point of looking out for him.
It turned out the fake fiancé was a nice guy. He and Embry decided to get married that weekend in Las Vegas, and they invited all of us to join them. Bryson even offered to pay for our plane tickets and hotel rooms.
Four of my housemates already had plans, but my good friend Vee and I agreed to go along. Besides wanting to be there for Embry, I knew I was in desperate need of some time off, and how often did free trips fall into my lap?
It took a lot of begging and promises of future favors to convince my coworkers to trade shifts with me, but I managed to get the weekend off with short notice. So that Friday, four of us flew to Sin City, and Bryson checked us into a fancy hotel on the Strip.
It became obvious pretty quickly that Embry was bonding with this guy and didn’t need us to chaperone. In fact, it seemed like he and his pretend fiancé were starting to develop a crush on each other, even though Bryson had claimed he was straight.
Rather than hovering, Vee and I left them to get to know each other and went to check out our hotel’s casino. I loved Vee. I really did, but we were very different people. Anyone would know that just by glancing at us. For the flight to Vegas, I’d dressed in black from head to toe—same as usual—with a fitted shirt and cropped pants, ankle boots, and a long cardigan. Meanwhile, Vee had opted for a red mesh tank top, pink camo cargo shorts, and flip flops. That said it all, really.
Vee had come on this trip for two reasons. The first was to support Embry, because he truly cared about him. The second was to party his ass off.
A few seconds after setting foot in our hotel’s casino, he stuck a huge drink in my hand. Next, he promptly lost his entire fifty-dollar budget on one slot machine. He followed that up by hitting on five big, buff guys at once.
It turned out they were from Austin, Texas, and members of an all-gay rugby team. That made Vee’s eyes light up. It looked like he’d hit the jackpot after all.
They all seemed to be into him, and why not? Despite his questionable fashion choices, Vee was a handsome guy. He was South Asian with thick, black hair, a solid build, eyelashes to die for, and a radiant smile. He was also incredibly outgoing and could strike up a conversation with anyone.
The guys all went by muscle bro nicknames, stuff like Tank, Hulk, and Goliath. One guy might have been called Swolio, but maybe I misheard it. Vee flirted with each of them equally, so I had to wonder if my friend was planning on spending the evening getting passed around like a joint at a Phish concert.