Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
I flinched as if he’d zapped me with a cattle prod, and covered it with a shrug. “Meh. I spent three hours photocopying passages from law journals and highlighting them. Snoozeville Saturday.”
“That sucks. Why don’t you quit? Tell them you need to study,” he suggested.
“Money. They pay me very well to make those lame-ass photocopies.”
“Do you think they’re going to offer you a job when you pass?” Blake asked.
I nodded. “I hope so. It’s not my dream job, but it’s a good start.”
In spite of my shady boss. This was where I’d usually tell my buddies about Rossman’s “idea,” but the words stuck in my throat and I just…didn’t want to talk about it.
“You should apply at my firm. I think you’d love it,” Cole said.
“You intern for a divorce attorney. No fuckin’ thanks. I don’t want to deal with angry couples who went from ‘I do’ to ‘I do want to take you to the fuckin’ cleaners.’ ”
“Ha. Good point.” He nudged my knee and lifted his beer. “Let’s just pass the bar, so we can find a place to live in Santa Monica.”
“Santa Monica,” I repeated.
“Yeah, you gotta admit it would be nice to walk to work and to the bars. We spend way too much time on the freeways, and it sucks,” Cole griped. “I’m done with Pasadena.”
I wasn’t sure I felt the same way, but he was right. The commute sucked. I just wasn’t ready to think about moving…or the future. It was all daunting as fuck.
I grunted in response.
Notice the pattern? I’d become a master at feigning indifference. As if I didn’t have a strong opinion about where I worked or lived or the guy I wished I could talk to without coming across like a baboon on steroids.
Blake patted my knee. “Too much change?”
“Maybe. It feels like everything is happening at the same time. Passing the bar, getting a real job, moving. It’s a lot.”
Blake and Cole nodded in understanding, but there really wasn’t much to add. It was just life.
Thankfully, Turner hit a triple and brought a runner home, putting an end to my mopey vibe. We whooped, smacked high fives, and slipped into familiar collegiate banter, peppering our sports commentary with monster belches that definitely would have affronted Holden’s delicate senses.
The thought made me chuckle.
Blake shot an amused sideways glance my way. “What’s so funny?”
“Holden. You should have seen him this morning. He accused me of drinking all the coffee…again. I swear he looked like he wanted to challenge me to a duel.” I shook my head in mock consternation.
“Leave Holden alone. He’s cool,” Cole huffed. “And he’s right. You need to step up and buy some groceries. I wanted to hurt you when you opened my Pringles.”
“That wasn’t me.” I winced. “Okay, fine. It was me. I’ll buy you some more.”
“I finished your ice cream. We’re even.” Cole waved me off. “That’s the problem, Ez. You expect Holden and Tommy to be more like us, but they don’t work like that. They’re polite.”
I stifled a burp. “I’m polite. I just don’t think I should have to be on my best fucking behavior in my own house.”
Not to mention that if I was on my best behavior, Holden would get the wrong idea…which was actually the right idea. Nope. Not going there.
Blake grunted. “Dude, you still have to be considerate. Ash and I have lived together for a while, and we know each other very well. If I left towels on the floor, crumbs on counters, and ate all his favorite foods, he’d fuckin’ kill me.”
“That’s different. You sleep with Ash. You’re probably gonna marry the guy.”
“I am definitely going to marry Ash,” he confirmed smugly.
“Well, I’m not sleeping with Holden, I’m not fucking Holden, and I’m definitely not going to marry him. Our situation is totally different.”
Heat flooded my cheeks before I finished my sentence. No shit. I could feel the tips of my ears turn red. My skin felt itchy and my heart was beating a little too fast. I gave the Dodgers my full attention, hoping my friends wouldn’t notice and ask what was on my mind.
“Yeah, but the cohabitation part matters too. Even if you’re only there through summer,” Blake was saying. “Be nice and buy some fuckin’ coffee.”
I flipped him the bird and changed the topic.
And on my way home, I bought some fuckin’ coffee.
I also bought yogurt, blueberries, strawberries, and whatever else I’d unintentionally—how had Holden put it?—pilfered. I preferred my definition: borrowed with the intention to replace. And look at me now.
I unloaded my groceries onto the kitchen table, humming along to a classic Def Leppard song in my head to keep my mind from drifting to my conversation with Rossman.
I had to tell Holden about it, but I wasn’t sure how.
“Yo, Holden, my boss’s genius daughter is failing your class and her dad wants me to introduce you at Starbucks. Please cooperate so he’ll hire me.” I dumped apples into the fruit bowl and sighed.