Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
My dad was a powerful guy. He ran one of the most successful talent agencies in Nashville, and right now he seemed so deep in his conversation that nothing else existed. I hesitated in the doorway. He looked busy, and I could come back—
Come here, he motioned as soon as his gaze landed on me. Then he flung that finger toward the empty spot beside him on the couch.
Without uttering a single word, I could tell he was upset with me, and I trudged my way toward him. Oh, no. What had I done? I sifted through the day’s events, trying to figure out what the issue might be.
I’d been good, hadn’t I?
Shit, I hated this new dynamic between us.
Growing up, I’d always been a daddy’s girl, and my parents had showered me with love and praise. We never fought. I never got into trouble. And they never pushed back when I wanted something. If I made a mistake, they were willing to give me an endless number of second chances.
Everything had been so . . . easy.
Looking back now, I was well aware I’d taken it all for granted.
But I’d been young and dumb, leading to my idiotic decision to go back to school, even though I’d never been that strong of a student. My father had moved Heaven and Earth to make it possible, pulling strings and calling in favors to get me into Davidson University.
I’d probably never know what all he had to do, but I was fairly certain he’d needed to get Stella, his biggest client, involved. And because she was such a sweetheart, she’d done it for both of us.
My first year of school wasn’t that bad or hard. But the second year? God, how I struggled. The classes were boring, and college wasn’t at all what I’d thought it would be. Everyone was so serious and knew exactly what they wanted to do. I even tried switching my major from business to marketing before the spring semester, but it didn’t help much.
Also not helping was that I met Zach in the spring at a March Madness watch party one of my friends hosted. He was older, alumni, and I think I was already halfway in love with him by the end of the night.
As time marched on, I realized trying to get a degree had been a terrible idea.
There was no way I could endure another two years of it, and once I’d come to that conclusion, it was impossible to get motivated to go to class. So of course I didn’t pass most of them.
When my parents checked my grades, it was the first time they truly looked disappointed in me. It was such a strange, uncomfortable feeling that I panicked. I swore to them it was a fluke. Next year would be better, I promised.
My parents reluctantly agreed but cautioned me against spending too much time with the new boyfriend. I agreed that when the summer was over, I’d buckle down and get my college career back on track.
I couldn’t see it then, but the thing that attracted me the most to Zach—besides his looks—was how unserious he was. Sure, he had an okay job and a decent apartment, but I ignored all the red flags waving right in my face.
It wasn’t right that a thirty-year-old guy wanted to spend every weekend hanging out at his old college. Or how he was so comfortable dating a girl who was eight years younger than him and was at a totally different stage of her life. I didn’t see that I was just a way for him to relive his college glory days.
The love I had for him was blinding.
My parents weren’t nearly as fooled. My dad tried to hide his unease with my much older boyfriend, and of course my mom deferred to whatever my dad did, but they knew how wrapped up in him I’d become. It was clear I hung on his every word, and they sensed my participation in school was suffering because of it.
Over the fall, my father’s passive aggressive statements about the age difference grew louder and more direct, but I brushed him off.
The first fight we ever had came after my dad’s stern warning. If I failed out of school, I was told, there’d be no more chances. There’d also be no more campus apartment, no more car, and no more credit card.
Long overdue tough love, my dad had announced. He threatened I’d be on my own—but this felt hollow. A bluff.
I was certain he didn’t mean it, not really.
At that point, I’d sunk so much into Zach, it was too late. I was spending nearly every night at his apartment anyway. In the mornings, he’d go to work, and I’d tidy up the apartment, run his errands for him, then spend the day making TikTok videos instead of going to class.