Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Or how about Rowan Michaels? He’s the QB for the Wildcats. Until Demi, rumors used to run rampant around Western about all of his sexcapades. Now he’s a one-woman guy.
This entire conversation is pissing me off. When I can’t hold the words back any longer, I point out, “I hate to break it to you, bro, but you’re an athlete. And you were certainly never a slouch in the hookup department.”
An uncomfortable stillness falls over us. It was a mistake to bring any of this up. A discussion that has to do with his sister dating was never going to end well.
Just when I think he might drop the conversation, he says, “We both know I fucked around a lot before Sydney. What’s your point?”
Good question, because I’m no longer sure.
I huff out a breath and do my best to backtrack before this convo blows up in my face. “I’m just saying that not all athletes are bad guys.”
“Never said they were. They’re just not good enough for my sister. End of story.”
And that’s exactly how it feels.
Like the end of the story.
Chapter Fourteen
Elle
As soon as the elevator doors open, I rush into the corridor before making a sharp left and continuing down the narrow hallway. Once I locate Dr. Holloway’s office, I rap my knuckles against the door and wait. My chest heaves, rising and falling with harsh breaths as if I just ran a marathon.
When he calls out a greeting, I nudge it farther open before poking my head inside. We were scheduled to meet twenty minutes ago, but play practice ran over. With opening night being less than a week away, most of the cast stuck around to run through lines and make last minute adjustments.
He glances up from his computer with an easy smile and waves me in. “Elle, glad you were able to make it.”
Now that I’m here, I slump onto the chair parked in front of his desk. The auditorium is all the way across campus, and I’ve never been much of a runner, but I jogged the entire way. In thanks for my effort, I now have a stitch in my side. If this has taught me anything, it’s that I need to work on my endurance. “I’m really sorry about being late. Practice ran over. I finally had to tell the director that I needed to get to an appointment.”
To say that Marcel Littlehouse was irritated with my impromptu departure is a vast understatement. He’d glared for a full thirty seconds—just enough time to make sure I squirmed beneath his heavy disapproval—before informing me in a nasally voice that life was all about priorities and then dismissing me with a flick of his wrist. I have little doubt that my part in next semester’s production will be reduced to barely a line or two.
He sits back in his chair. “It’s not a problem. I didn’t realize you were involved in the theater department. That’s great.”
Now that I realize he isn’t upset, the thick tension vibrating through my body leaks from my muscles and my heartrate gradually slows to a steady thump. “I’m a theater major. This year’s production is Heathers: The Musical, and it opens next week.”
“That sounds like a lot of fun. I’ll have you know that I once tried out for a play in high school.” He grimaces before shaking his head. “It didn’t go well. I got on stage, took one look at the audience, and promptly forgot my lines.” When my mouth trembles at the corners, he says, “It was a fairly traumatic experience that continues to haunt me to this very day.”
Now my lips do more than just quiver—I’m full on laughing at the image of a young Professor Holloway being struck with stage fright. “I doubt it was that bad.”
“Trust me, it was actually much worse. Even my poor parents were embarrassed. They’d invited all of our family from out of town to watch my theatrical debut. After that dismal failure, mathematics seemed like the best route.” He leans forward and lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Here’s a little-known secret. Numbers are safe. There aren’t any surprises with them. And every problem has a solution.”
Ha!
How can the man even say that?
I shake my head in disagreement. “Numbers are terrifying. And statistics is like trying to decipher hieroglyphics. There are times when I think I’m actually starting to understand the material and then you set a test before me. Everything swims on the paper, and it’s like I’ve never seen it before in my life.”
Dr. Holloway straightens before glancing at the chunky silver watch adorning his left wrist. “Which is exactly why you’re here. Hopefully, we can clear up some of your confusion and stats will start to make a little more sense. We have roughly forty minutes to work through some of these problems.”