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)
Now I’m on the edge of a cliff, staring down at what I can’t have. This, for better or worse, is the beginning of my ruin. Because, unlike before, my mind races at every touch, analyzes at every moment, and obsesses over her wildly.
Because I love her. I love Julia Brooks.
And tomorrow, she’s going on a date with another dude.
Fuck.
Sunday, June 8th
Julia
I didn’t plan to spend my whole day with Ace again. It just…happened.
One minute, we were eating bagels from our favorite bakery in SoHo and arguing over whether the everything bagel is the best bagel you can get, and the next, we were watching people play chess in Washington Square Park before picking up tacos. And then somehow, we ended up at a pet store holding a chameleon Ace named Mr. Slippy.
It was a lot. It was also…fun. So much so that I almost forgot I had an actual date tonight.
Almost.
Ace, of course, made sure I didn’t forget—by accidentally spilling salsa all over my shirt and making me change, which started a whole debate about outfits, and then he said I should let him do my makeup, which turned into another argument because, frankly, Ace’s over-the-top hand on my eyelids would’ve been a war crime.
Long story short, I was a little late for my date with Drew. Not egregiously, but enough to make my palms sweat when I realized he was stuck in my parents’ living room talking to my father for ten whole minutes.
Now, I’m sitting across from him at a cozy table in a fancy restaurant called Olivette, trying to focus on conversation and not the vibrating phone in my lap that’s been lighting up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve.
Drew offers the bread basket, and I take a piece and a pat of butter on my plate gratefully. My phone buzzes in my lap again—the same thing it’s been doing for the last half an hour—and I do my best to glance at it discreetly as messages dance across the screen.
Ace: Did you know the Romanovs were like actual killers?
Ace: I thought with so many names that ended in The Great they’d be like legit and stuff, but according to this thing on Netflix they were pretty ruthless
I grit my teeth, trying not to fidget in my chair too much while Drew looks on.
Ace: Do you need to heat hot dogs long enough to actually cook em or just get em hot? I can never remember
Ace: Do you think that chinese food place on fifth avenue will deliver all the way over here? I want egg rolls
Either my phone is lagging in delivery or Ace’s fingers are literally moments away from falling off because the speed with which his messages are landing is something to be marveled at.
My smile twitches at the corner. Drew’s in the middle of explaining something about his macroeconomics professor last semester, and I really try to stay tuned in, but Ace is chaos in text form. I click the side button on my phone to darken the screen again, but it goes off immediately, lighting back up.
“So, what classes are you looking forward to most this year?” Drew asks, chewing his bread completely and dabbing at his mouth with his napkin before even starting to speak. He’s been working hard to keep our conversation going despite my level of distraction, and I swear, even though he should be annoyed with me, he hasn’t broken his smile once.
I don’t know if he’s going for sainthood or if he’s actually this chill, but I appreciate it either way. I never dreamed Ace would be texting this much—or that anyone would. In fact, I don’t think anyone in the entire world has ever texted this much in a one-hour time frame. It’s probably in contention for a Guinness record.
Ace: I’m worried the Armani suit for Lexi’s grad thing might be a little too casual. I mean I wear Armani to class sometimes. You think I should go with the Gucci or keep my options open
Ace: Do you think testicular torsion is something you can talk through? I just pulled my nuts BAD but like I can still talk through my teeth you know
God help me.
“I’m really looking forward to psychology. I never thought I’d be interested in it, but when my peer counselor told me about the curriculum, I knew I had to take it,” I manage to say, still distracted by my phone but vying for something, anything, to erase Ace asking about testicular torsion from my memory.
I type feverishly across my keyboard, knowing I can’t keep this up much longer without ruining the date completely.
Me: Ace, can this wait? I’m on my date with Drew, remember?
Ace: OH SHIT SORRY totally forgot. Mums the word and shit. I’ll wait for you to text me unless it’s something really urgent