Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
I’ve got plenty of shit to think about when it comes to Double C. I’m currently balls deep in planning two events—one for this weekend that’s still unnamed and disorganized and the big one for Halloween night—and if I have any hope of passing these classes without Julia, I should probably think about some fucking academic shit too.
I groan and allow my mind to wander back to the big Halloween event for Double C.
That one, I’ve actually got plans for. I’m talking masks, code names, no phones, cloaks. It has all the elements to be the best Double C event I’ve planned thus far, which is saying a fucking lot because every event has brought its A game.
I should be fucking pumped, but I’m a shell of chaos. I have too many tabs open in my brain, and keeping them organized is harder than ringleading a Barnum and Bailey circus.
Because nothing is the same without Julia Brooks by my side.
Class starts, and I don’t hear a single word of it despite knowing how badly I need to.
Halfway through the lecture, I glance up to find Scottie watching from across the room. She doesn’t smile. Only tilts her head like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. Sadly, the puzzle she’s trying to solve is probably somewhere in the NYC dump by now, being piled on by other fucking trash.
But because Finn is conjoined with his girl at the dick, I already know I’m going to get texts from him about her theories.
And sure enough, when class ends, my phone vibrates in a fury.
Finn: I think Ace needs an intervention.
Boden: Oh shit. He’s spiraling?
Finn: He’s close. Two feet on the ledge, man.
They keep going, but I ignore whatever they’re saying and shove my phone into my pocket, purposefully heading out the side exit of the building.
I skip my next class and head back to my apartment, halfheartedly going over logistics for Double C’s Halloween event. And since the university can’t know it exists, planning it feels like coordinating a heist but with glitter and fog machines.
Honestly, this is the only thing keeping me going right now. I might not be enjoying it per se, but it’s at least given me a purpose while everything else in my life feels like a bag of sweaty ballsacks.
My fingers move through spreadsheets and equipment lists, but my mind’s on the pretty voice that used to narrate my life in dumb impressions and whispered jokes. That used to say things like “You’re such an idiot” but in a way that always felt like it meant “I love you anyway.”
Before I know it, I’m pulling out my phone and scrolling past the new text notifications from Finn and Blake, ignoring them completely. I open my voice memo app instead, my mind wanting to take a walk down memory lane when everything felt happy.
And there it is. Untitled and dated March 6 at 11:24 p.m.
I barely remember recording it. I’m pretty sure it happened during one of our late-night walks home from a party. One click to the screen and Julia’s laugh fills the quiet. It’s not her sweet, giggle laugh but the kind of laugh she only does when she thinks something is insanely hilarious. Tears and snorts are always involved.
I close my eyes and let it sink in.
And being the masochist that I am, I let myself pretend that everything is okay. That Julia’s still my best friend. And that I didn’t ruin the only thing in life that ever felt like it was worth being serious over.
Sunday, October 12th
Julia
Zip’s Diner is packed and buzzing with lazy Sunday energy. The scents of butter and maple syrup cling to the air, mixing with the occasional clatter of silverware and laughter from the corner booths.
Scottie dunks a forkful of hash browns in hot sauce. “We should’ve known once Ace Kelly became the prez…things would go off the rails.”
Kayla grins. “Right? Last night was insane. How many ferrets were there? Ten? And what was with the dude in the gorilla costume on the skateboard?”
Scottie laughs. “I saw that guy crash and burn so many times.”
I laugh because I’m supposed to. But my smile is brittle, and my coffee’s long gone cold.
Ace was barely visible last night. Just flashes. A glimpse of his profile across the room. A low laugh from somewhere down the hall of the chemistry basement. And always with someone beside him. Usually a girl, and never but never me. He didn’t come over to try to make up or explain again, he didn’t pull me aside and apologize for keeping something from me for the first time ever and for fucking everything up with his timing, and he didn’t let me have my fifteen minutes to be upset and then check on me to call it to an end. I know he was never good at telling time, but three weeks ought to be long enough to tell the difference.