Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
She wasn’t one to be messed with. I saw that right away. A sharp and almost calculating look was in there. I stared back at her with the same look and her lips pressed together in a flat line.
Okay then.
I would toe the line with her.
Liam was almost the complete opposite. Messy blond hair that was sticking in the air, a permanent wave where you could see he pushed his hand through his hair, leaving it where it lay, and as I studied him, he did just that. An almost goofy smile came to his face. Lines around his eyes and mouth were soft, giving him a sleepy look, too. Blue eyes that were smudged with exhaustion or something chemical, but he had a jock’s body type. Broad shoulders. His polo shirt cut off on his biceps and they were built, so the guy spent time in the gym.
The two together were not what I’d been expecting. Then again, I didn’t fit the IT stereotype either. Looking past them to the hallway, I saw plenty of gangly and awkward-standing guys who did, though, even a girl that dashed past everyone, rushing to our group. Petite. A darker complexion, small lips, and her face was rounder.
I liked her instantly.
“Ah. Yes. This is Melissa Zvanguam.”
“Hello.” She stuck her hand out, her eyes wide and taking me in.
I knew. I just knew. It was instant, but the starstruck look was there.
If I’d been questioning it before, I would’ve kicked myself now. The others were keeping themselves more restrained, or they just didn’t care, but this girl cared.
And I knew what words would come from her next, in a breathy awed tone. “You’re Peter Francis’s daughter.”
I put my hand in hers and she gripped me tight, gushing, “I am a huge huge fan of your father’s, and you’re going to be in my cohort.” A deep breath.
Ms. Busich frowned. “Get ahold of yourself, Miss Zvanguam.”
“Yes.” Melissa nodded automatically, eyes glazed and glued to me, and stepped back. Her hand didn’t disengage from mine, so she was bent forward. “I can’t let go of your hand.”
Hoda coughed, stepping forward. Her hands were clasped in front of her and the movement tore our hands apart.
Liam was stoned. I was pretty sure. His smile never dimmed or changed. He didn’t move at all.
Yep. Stoned. I was certain.
“Ah. Miss Mansour. Why don’t you show Miss Hayes the premises, help her get situated.”
I was situated. I said it, too. “I had a tour last spring, and I’ve studied all the maps and layouts. To be honest, I just really want to get to class and get started.”
Hoda stepped more to the side so she was half next to me, facing Ms. Busich.
“Yes, well…” Busich glanced to the other faculty, which made sense. She was the head of everything. This was a more specific question.
Ms. Wells took her cue and nodded, another formal smile on her face. “Hoda will still show you the more pertinent faculties. Hoda?”
“Yes, Ms. Wells?”
“Bring her to my office after class. Miss Hayes?”
Miss Hayes was so formal. “Bailey. Please.”
“Bailey.” Her smile seemed a touch more genuine. “It’s lovely to meet you. After class, Hoda will show you to my office. We need to go over your program.”
I nodded. I had been expecting that.
A meeting with your advisor was normal. The rest of this was not.
“Sounds great. Thank you.”
Hoda started the tour with a bang. She marched ahead of me, and I had to hurry up, but she was already going.
“We have twelve students in our cohort. Three are half time. Nine are full time. There’s three females. You, myself, and Melissa make up those stats. The rest are guys, and we have two older adults, and when I say older, I’m meaning they’re middle-aged return students.” She passed an open classroom, nodding inside. “Classes on Monday start at nine thirty a.m. Classes on Thursday start at twelve thirty. Each is three hours long. Your advisor will go over the rest of your schedule with you. Here is our personal student lab.”
She went to a door and swept it open. It was a bricked room, no windows, just computers. Lots of computers. The printer was set up in the corner, and next to it was an attendant for the room.
“We do use the school’s library for extra studying, so if we’re not in here, more than likely we’ll be in the library. Most are graduate assistants, GAs, but loitering in the extra offices is frowned upon here. The IT department is stressing a cohesive and connected cohort with this program and so yes, that means we’re guinea pigs. There was more than the average number of student suicides last year. They’ve looked at the most isolated programs and the IT program rated high. So there you go. We’re being force-fed friends, not that you’ll be lacking.”