Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
“What’s your PT regimen like?” Mr. Everett said.
“It’s intense,” Jacob admitted. This was absolutely true— I had seen him come back from PT looking like he’d been tortured for the hour-long appointments. Three times a week, with light training that couldn’t further injure his shoulder on off days. Jacob’s legs had gone from enormous to flatly insane, given the amount of legwork he was doing in the gym.
Mr. Everett seemed pleased to hear the training was intense. “That boy Adams is hot on your tail, son. Get back out there, or this’ll all have been for nothing. Sitting on the sidelines is every bit as bad for you as an injury is.” He smiled a bit at me. “Forgive us, Sasha. He doesn’t ever tell us anything, you know. We have to hear it all from the news.”
“That’s not true— he’s told us plenty about her,” Ms. Everett told her husband, motioning with her drink toward me.
“How nice to hear,” I said, but I could tell from the firm line of Jacob’s mouth that wherever this conversation was headed wasn’t a desirable destination. This meant it was a huge relief when dinner arrived— Southern food gone high concept, like pimento cheese wontons and chicken fried in rendered duck fat. Jacob managed to steer the conversation to some surgery his grandmother was having, then to a talk about holiday plans.
“Would Jenna like to join us in Vail this year?” Ms. Everett asked Jacob.
Jacob answered in a calm, dangerous voice. “I can’t imagine why she would, Mom.”
“Well, she’s such a good skier, is all,” Ms. Everett said, carefully placing her cutlery at an angle across the top of her plate. “How is she, these days?”
“And how does pro soccer even work for women?” Mr. Everett cut in. “Is there a draft for them too? Or is it more like a sign up?”
“You’d have to ask Jenna,” Jacob said.
“Well, you never bring her around anymore,” Ms. Everett said, like Jacob was being ridiculous.
“Probably because she isn’t my girlfriend. Sasha is,” Jacob said. I smiled— I didn’t mean to, exactly, but this was the first time Jacob had called me that. To have him say it to his parents was—
“I’m just saying that you and Jenna had so much in common— we wish you’d given her more of a chance. No offense, of course, Sasha,” Ms. Everett said, nodding my way then waving her hand, like the action literally wafted away her offending words. “I’m so very pleased you’re making our Jacob happy. What can I say, though? Walter and I are creatures of habit. We miss Jenna!” she laughed cheerily, and elbowed Walter, who joined in.
Jacob sat stone-faced; I, however, affixed a thin smile to my lips and refused to look away from Ms. Everett. I’d dealt with enough rich people to know that nothing, nothing threw a rich person off their game like refusing to laugh off their shitty jokes.
Ms. Everett’s laughter faded when she saw my expression. She cleared her throat, then unfolded and refolded her napkin. Jacob glanced at me, looked like he was about to say something.
“So, Sasha, you’ve really never played a sport? What do you and Jacob even talk about?” Mr. Everett joked.
“The cultural ramifications of the Brexit vote in various Commonwealth countries,” I said sweetly, then smiled. “Would you excuse me for a moment? I need to dash to the restroom.”
Mr. Everett’s lips were parted a bit, and I felt mildly certain if I kept going, his mouth would be quite literally hanging open. Instead, I collected my purse and made my way to the restroom.
I walked quickly to the bathroom and locked myself inside— sorry, other patrons. I leaned against the carved wood door for a moment, inhaled the essential oils being diffused from a fancy antique table, and tried my hardest not to wish eternal pain and suffering on my boyfriend’s parents.
Jacob told me they’d be difficult. He told me they were like this, I reminded myself. And besides, he clearly doesn’t agree with the stuff they’re saying. His opinion is the one that matters, right?
I exhaled, opened my eyes, and stared at my reflection for a moment. It was dim in here, a forgiving sort of light perfect for first dates or finals calls. I studied my reflection, the dress— Jacob had offered to buy it for me, the hair— a blowout that Jacob had paid for, makeup— I’d used Piper’s expensive stuff while she was out, my body—wobbly in places where Jenna’s was fit and toned.
Jacob’s parents weren’t wrong— Jenna and Jacob had a lot in common. More in common. He and I were practically from different planets— our paths would never have even crossed had I not been assigned to be Piper and Kiersten’s roommate.
I stared myself down in the mirror. I lifted my chin. But Jacob wants you, not her.