Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
I nod.
“It’s probably hard to focus in here. Why don’t we go to my office, and I can help you there?” He glances at Marina. “Let Sienna know Eliza is with me.”
“You can call me Ellie,” I say, standing and gathering my stuff.
Lincoln walks me over to his office and takes a seat behind the desk, motioning for me to sit in the plump, leather visitor seat.
I notice he leaves the door open, and he explains, “I have an open-door policy. If I’m here, the door is open, and everyone knows they can come to me for anything.” He sets the paper down. “Now, the key to writing a good essay is to understand what it’s asking you to do.”
He spends the next several minutes walking me through how to break the prompt apart and outline, something my teacher never went over with us. By the time he’s done, I understand what I need to do.
“Now, you have to—” His phone rings and he raises a finger, silently telling me to give him a moment. “What’s up, big bro?” I don’t know who his brother is, although I’ve heard from the women talking that they’re close. His name is Micah, and while Lincoln is all smiles, Micah is apparently a brooding asshole—at least that’s how the women describe him.
They talk for a few minutes about the restaurant Lincoln’s opening. From what I’ve gathered, the building has three levels: the bottom floor is an underground sex club called Elite, the ground floor is a strip club and bar, which is where my sister works, and the top floor will be a restaurant called Impulse. They’re still in the building stages, according to Sienna.
When he hangs up, he glances at my paper and mock glares. “You got nothing done.”
“I think I have trouble focusing,” I admit. “I can memorize any dance number, but when it comes to reading and writing, I struggle.”
“You’re a dancer?” he asks.
“Yep, dancing is my life. Not dancing like stripping, though,” I’m quick to clarify.
“Obviously,” he says with a laugh. “So, what do you do—ballet?”
“All types, really. My sister and I started dancing before we could walk,” I joke. “My plan is to get into NYU and go to school for dance therapy. It’s always been my safe place, and I’d love to teach it one day with my sister. Help other people find their safe place through dance like I did.” I shrug. “Maybe we could even open our own studio. Who knows. But in order to get into NYU, I need the grades, especially if I’m going to apply for a scholarship.”
There’s no way Sienna can afford my tuition, nor would I ask that of her, which means I have less than three years left to get the grades I need to get in and hope for an academic or dance scholarship of some sort. I’ll get some financial aid since we’re poor as hell, but it won’t be enough—honestly, it’s never enough.
“You’ve got this,” Lincoln says, his hazel eyes meeting mine. “And if you need any help with your schoolwork, I’m always here. Don’t tell my brother, but I’m the smart one in the family.” He winks playfully, causing butterflies to swarm in my belly.
We work on my essay for another hour or so, and when we finish, he walks me back to the dressing room. This is the first time I’ve been around a man who doesn’t look at me like I was a prize lamb at the county fair.
Growing up in a home with a drug-addicted prostitute for a mom, I’ve come across my fair share of men, none of which are bothered that I’m underage. Pussy is pussy to them, and virgin pussy only makes them want me that much more.
I’ve never met a gentleman like Lincoln. He kept the door open, was respectful, and he didn’t make a single crude comment the entire time. As I watch him speak to Marina, before he glances back at me and smiles softly, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be with a man like Lincoln. My assumption has always been that all the women here flirt with him because he’s rich and hot, only now I realize it may be more than that. They see what I didn’t see before: the safety, security, comfort. Things girls like me don’t have the luxury of getting.
“I’m going to need to borrow your sister,” Lincoln says when we walk through the back door of Wanderlust.
“For what?” Sienna asks skeptically, at the same time I say, “Sure!”
It’s been almost two weeks since Lincoln helped with my essay, and I’ve only seen him a handful of times since. But during each interaction he’s nice and sweet. He talks to me like I’m his equal, not like I’m a little kid or a piece of meat. I like him, and even though I know I’m too young for him right now, one day I won’t be. I read an article online that says the way to a man’s heart is through friendship, so that’s what I’m going to do. Unlike the women who throw themselves at him, I’m going to befriend him, and once I’m old enough, it will be easy to convince him to be with me.