Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Not a lot of chemistry. At least in the pictures. There, she said it.
Was that a salty thing to acknowledge?
No! It was just an impartial observation.
Which had perked her up more than her triple-shot latte.
Ughhh.
“As you’ll read on page three of the syllabus, there will be three individual assignments during the semester and one project where you’ll be working in pairs. I expect equal effort, people.” He stopped and made eye contact with all of them, letting the directive sink in.
“He knows we’re not in our first year of undergrad, right?” mumbled her table partner.
“Seriously.”
“To make things easy,” continued the professor, “your assigned partner is whoever you’re sharing a table with today. No doubt you’ll need to meet outside of class at least once to complete the assignment, so it behooves you to spend some time getting acquainted.”
Tallulah kept her breathing steady, even sending her seat partner a quiet nod, but on the inside, her thoughts were tripping over each other. They’d have to meet outside of class. She’d have to meet with a stranger.
It’s going to be fine.
You have to start believing in good people again sometime.
She wouldn’t spiral over this. During her remaining weeks in Antarctica, she’d sworn to herself the fear wouldn’t hold her back anymore. That phase was over. She just hadn’t expected to be tested so soon, so often. But maybe this was normal life and she’d just been hiding from it so long, she’d forgotten.
The rest of class went by in a blur, Tallulah only registering half of the professor’s presentation. When he dismissed them, Tallulah gathered her notebook, pen, and copy of the syllabus, looking up with a forced smile when three classmates stopped at the edge of her table. “Hey again, Tallulah. Happy Friday,” said Tisha, if Tallulah was recalling her name correctly. They’d spoken briefly at orientation, enough to know Tisha had grown up in India, started her education in medicine, but switched to biology upon realizing her passion lay in lab work and research. “We figured we’d start the semester off right and meet up for drinks tonight. Around nine. You know, in order to establish an official whining circle.”
Tallulah nodded. “Negativity. The only way to cope.”
“You’re welcome to join,” laughed the guy beside her. Evan, maybe? “You, too, Finn.”
“Sure,” responded her table partner.
That’s right. Finn.
Tallulah started to decline. They all seemed genuinely nice and there was nothing out of the ordinary about tossing back a few drinks with other students, especially ones who shared the same field of study. But did she know them well enough?
Stop saying no to opportunities. It’s time to say yes again.
“Okay,” she said quickly, before she could talk herself out of it. “Take my phone number and let me know where you’ll be.” An idea occurred to her. “Would you mind if I invited my friend Chloe?”
“Not at all,” answered Tisha, holding out her phone to Tallulah. “Go ahead.”
“Cool.”
On his way out of the room, Finn’s elbow brushed Tallulah’s and she faltered in the act of entering her contact information into Tisha’s phone. “See you tonight, Tallulah,” he said, adjusting his glasses, before touching her elbow as if to apologize for inadvertently grazing it, which made no sense and only made her creep antennae bleep faster. “Might as well get to know each other now, since we’ll be partners, right?”
She laughed, but it came out flat. “Yeah.” She handed the phone back to Tisha and dried her clammy palms on the legs of her jeans. “See you guys tonight.”
Chapter Seven
Burgess could confidently say he’d never been happier to walk into his apartment.
Perhaps a little too happy. And he blamed Tallulah’s skirt.
When he got off the elevator on the floor of his building, he was met by the sound of music. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was the unbearable wailing of his daughter’s favorite band, Raskulls. There had never been any love lost between him and the British pop group who wore giant phony heads on stage with freakishly happy faces painted on front. The first time Lissa played them in the car, he’d contemplated crashing into a wall just to end the torture. He was dreading the day she asked him to bring her to an actual concert.
They didn’t make strong enough earplugs.
Apparently, Tallulah could put up with the lead singer’s high-pitched warble, but he was only going to last approximately three minutes once he got inside.
Burgess pushed his key into the lock and twisted, opening the door and wincing slightly as the worst music ever recorded got even louder. He opened his mouth to complain, but only silence came out. Because there was Tallulah, bent over his kitchen table in a black leather mini skirt and sheer stockings that ended a few inches beneath her ass. She was holding a dirty dinner plate in one hand, as she’d obviously been on the way to the kitchen to put it into the sink when she must have been derailed by Lissa asking for homework help. She appeared to be leaning across the table in order to see a problem in Lissa’s math workbook and the timing of him walking into the apartment couldn’t have been worse. Or better.