Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Relief floods my chest at her assumption that the note is from Will. Thank God she doesn’t know what their handwriting looks like.
And thank God that Beckett chose to write the most innocuous note on the planet. This could’ve gone in a whole other direction if he’d said Will and I can’t wait to fuck you later, baby girl.
Gigi’s voice drips with amusement as she says, “Okay, that is beyond cute.”
I give a nervous laugh, hoping the flush in my cheeks doesn’t give me away. “Yeah. Will’s sweet like that sometimes.”
“Would it kill you to admit you like him?” Blake says with a smirk, and I realize she’s mimicking my exact words when I was harassing her about Isaac in the fall.
“I like him a lot,” I admit.
I stuff the note into my purse as casually as possible, pretending it wasn’t from the wrong guy. No, not the wrong guy. Just a different guy. My mind races, guilt gnawing at me. I have no idea how to handle this situation anymore. I don’t want to lie about who’s writing me sweet notes. But I also don’t want to tell the truth.
“What’s a lot?” Gigi asks, smiling.
What am I supposed to say? That I’m falling for him? For Beckett too? The notion feels too big. Too terrifying. When we started this thing, I hadn’t planned on catching feelings—especially for both of them.
For the first time in my life, the Method failed me. Because “falling in love with two guys” was not on my list of potential outcomes.
“I don’t know,” I finally say. “I mean…I might be falling for him.” I laugh awkwardly, trying to brush it off as no big deal.
Blake’s eyebrows soar. “You’re falling for him? Charlotte, that’s serious.”
“Yeah.” I sigh, hating how conflicted I feel. How scared I am.
Because…falling for one guy? Fine.
But two?
That’s a mess I’m not ready for.
A few nights later, I’m back at the town house, sitting cross-legged on the couch, laptop open in front of me and a mess of textbooks and scribbled notes spread out on the coffee table as I sketch out the latest iteration of my heart monitor design.
I prefer working at their place. In fact, it’s become a habit now, packing an overnight bag and driving to Hastings, where there’s no Agatha monitoring the halls making sure everyone is wearing Delta Pi–approved pj’s or isn’t typing too loudly on their keyboards. Here, I can be as quiet or as loud as I choose. I can stay up all night if I want without worrying about anyone derisively commenting about the dark circles under my eyes the next day. Because dark eye circles are a common occurrence in STEM. Engineering comes with a lot of late nights, caffeine, and occasional breakdowns over complex algorithms.
I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, though. STEM might be challenging, but it’s also stimulating. Rewarding. Fun. Maybe not everyone’s idea of fun, but definitely mine.
Will sits on the other end of the couch, his gaze glued to the Bruins game on the TV. Every few minutes, he either curses angrily or exclaims, “Fuck yeah!”
Beckett went out tonight with one of their teammates, someone called the Kansas Kid, who I only recently realized was a human man. For the longest time, I thought they were talking about a western movie.
I groan when my phone buzzes on the table, fighting the urge to march into the hall bathroom and flush the damn thing down the toilet. Harrison’s been blowing up my phone this past week, and although I feel like shit admitting it, I enjoyed it when he was in California. He ended up staying out there after Christmas for another six weeks, crashing at his friend’s place and building a website for the friend’s tech start-up. He’d been too busy to text or call me more than a handful of times, and I can’t deny it felt nice to have some breathing room.
Whenever I talk to Harrison, it feels so damn heavy. He triggers this relentless need to atone for the great childhood, the full life, I was fortunate to be given. My sister is adding to that guilt too. She stopped badgering me to tell our parents about Harrison, which is somehow even worse than being nagged about it. A part of me needed her to keep pushing. Without that pressure, I’m even less inclined to share the truth with Mom and Dad.
“Holy shit. You should’ve come out tonight, Larsen. Nazzy almost started a bar fight with an active-duty Navy SEAL.”
I glance up as Beckett strolls into the living room, a bearded, golden vision in faded jeans and a white hoodie that brings out his tan. His eyes are bright but not glazed, which tells me he’s tipsy rather than wasted.
“Dude, that kid’s mouth is gonna get him killed one day,” Will says without taking his gaze off the hockey game.