Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
After I took my clean laundry back to the suite, I decided to finish my workout, but I kept being distracted by the fact that Kylie was so close by. I’d passed by the laundry room and spotted her curled up on a chair in the sun like a cat. Except that cats didn’t usually read on a tablet propped up on the table next to them.
As I did bicep curls, I kept thinking about her. No surprise—she was a beautiful woman who intrigued me. But for some reason, that wasn’t what I was focusing on. No, I kept thinking about something she’d said. It had crawled into my brain and was setting up camp, keeping me from concentrating on anything else.
Finally, I gave up on the rest of my workout and went to find her. She looked up when I came in, setting aside her tablet. “I need your help,” I said bluntly.
She tilted her head to the side. “Another drawstring?”
“No.” I sighed and sat down in a chair next to her, putting my feet up on another. “Real help.”
If I’d been in Kylie’s position, I would’ve said something sarcastic, but her expression grew serious, and she rested her arms on the table, leaning forward as if to hear me better. “What’s up?”
“It’s my sister,” I said, not wanting to have this conversation, but pushing through, nonetheless. “My dad’s been on my ass about how Alyssa’s not doing very well.”
“Grade-wise?” Kylie asked.
“Everything-wise. She’s got all these projects she has to wrap up before she graduates. It’s a busy, stressful time—I remember it well.” I tried to recall what else my dad had said. He and I didn’t see eye to eye about a lot of things, and we didn’t usually discuss my half-sister. “She did a semester abroad thing that set her back, so almost all of her friends graduated in May. She doesn’t have a—a—” I couldn’t remember the term my stepmother had used. I just knew if they didn’t stop calling me about this, I was going to scream.
“A support network?” Kylie suggested.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Sounds like she needs one,” she said. “We all do.”
“Exactly,” I said. “I think she needs someone to talk to.”
Kylie smiled, and relief filled me. This was going to be easier than I thought. “So what are you going to say to her?” she asked.
Shit. I’d thought we were on the same page. “I was hoping you could talk to her.”
“Me?” It was weird how much Kylie’s voice could rise in just one syllable.
“Yeah.”
“Why? I don’t even know her.”
That might be an advantage. I knew Alyssa, and I was probably the last person who could help her out. “I figured you knew what she was going through since you just finished your undergraduate degree. And, you know, because you’re a woman.”
Kylie’s hands tightened and she took them off the table. “So since I’m a woman, I must know what all women are going through. No way you could advise her since we women are such mysterious and irrational creatures that only one of our own could possibly understand us.”
Under other circumstances, I would’ve enjoyed seeing Kylie’s flash of temper—and wondering what else got her stirred up like that.
But not now.
“The thing is, in her program there are some group projects that are worth a good chunk of the final grade, and I think she’s struggling working with her classmates.” I hesitated, not wanting to speak ill of the field that was so important to me. “Engineering is still pretty male dominated. Not like in Henderson’s day, but still, there are a lot more males in the field than females. And I think Alyssa’s having a hard time standing up for herself against the men in her group who likely tend to be arrogant and domineering. That’s why I thought it would be good if you spoke with her.”
Kylie’s expression had softened. “Why?”
“Because you stand up for yourself. Look how hard you fought to stay with us in the suite. You don’t take crap from anyone. Alyssa… she does.” An uncomfortable and unfamiliar feeling tore through me. It took me a minute to recognize it for what it was: shame.
“I still think that you should—” Kylie began, but I interrupted her.
“I made her cry,” I admitted.
“What?”
“I only saw her once over the summer. My dad lives with her mom, my stepmother. My own mom died when I was nine, and then my dad hit me with the news that he had a daughter I never knew about and that he was going to marry her mother—as if my own mom had never existed. As I said, we’re not close, but I visited them a few months ago. Alyssa was there. I said something flippant and insensitive and she started crying.”
Kylie reached across the table and took my hand in hers, squeezing softly. “Have you spoken to her since?”