Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Thatch gestures to the girl in the seat next to Ace to scoot over, and she does, not knowing what else to do, I imagine. He takes the seat next to his son, and Ace just sits there, glancing back and forth between his dad and me.
“Dude. Am I hallucinating?”
I shake my head.
“My dad is really here? This isn’t a fucking nightmare?”
I nod.
“Fuck me.”
“It’s gonna be a good year. Right, Acer?” His dad gives him a soft nudge of his elbow as he makes a show of getting notebooks and pens and shit out of his backpack that literally still has the tags on it. He even has a fucking stapler and paper clips. “Me and you in college. Hell yeah!” He meets my eyes with a big-ass grin. “Hey, Finn. Good to see you, man.”
I smile, completely despite myself. Seeing Ace this close to a mental breakdown while his dad full sends it is hilarious.
“Dad, what the fucking fluff is happening right now?” Ace asks, his voice shaking in a whisper.
“Oh, c’mon, son. You’re going to have to start calling me Thatch around our peers. Don’t want them assuming I’m some boring-ass old man. I’m the original dick-swinger, you hear me?” His words may be meant for Ace, but they’re loud enough for the whole class to hear them.
Guffaws and side-splitting laughter take shape all around us.
“Oh my G-od,” Ace whispers, horror making the benediction at the end catch in his throat. “Are you having a stroke? Does Mom know you’re here?”
“By Mom, I’m sure you mean my hot-as-balls girlfriend Cassie—whom I just so happen to be legally wed to—and yes, she knows. Hell, she’s so jealous, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s enrolled by the end of the day. Though, she is pissed she missed rush week. Sorority sparkles and TikTok dances are her jam.” His laugh is hearty. “You think we can get her a late entry, Ace Face?”
Ace stares at his dad, each gulp of his mouth turning his skin more ashen.
“Yeah, okay, you think on that,” Thatch says and flips open his notebook. He leans over Ace and whispers to me, “Did I miss anything, Finn?”
“Do not even humor him with a response,” Ace snaps at me and shoves his dad’s big head back toward his seat.
“Oh, come on, bud. I can’t make a bad first impression for my first class.”
“Your first class?” Ace questions. “As in, you have more classes?”
“Oh yeah. I made sure we have the same schedule,” Thatch updates and chooses one of the twenty pens he has sitting on his desk to scribble something in his notebook. “By the way, I’m going to own your ass in accounting.”
Every student inside the lecture hall is one hundred percent fixated on Ace and his dad’s conversation, including me, and I realize it’s been that way for several minutes without interruption. When I steal a glance at Professor Winslow at the front of the room, I note that he’s outright smiling now.
I roll my eyes. He’s trying so hard to be cool that he’s just letting this sham play out in its entirety. It’s annoying.
Ace is at a loss for words finally, opening his notebook and turning to the first blank page, when his dad leans over to his face and whispers in a boom that’s loud enough for all to hear, “Prank champion.”
Ace’s face is a mask of shock, horror, and undeniable awe. Thatch bursts into laughter.
“You’re shitting me?” Ace questions, and Thatch just waggles his brows in amusement.
“Remember this summer? When you paid NYU acting students to pretend to do an FBI-style raid on my office? Consider this payback, baby.”
This family is fucking nuts.
Students shout and cry out, and kids stand up and charge toward us to high-five Thatch one by one. It’s mayhem.
Professor Winslow lets the madness and absolute hysterics of an overwhelmed class roar for a full minute before taking command again. “All right, everybody. Time to relax,” he orders, waving his hands up and down for both the volume and for people to take their seats again. His voice is a rumble as he adds, “Thatch, with all due respect, get the hell out of my classroom.”
“Cool your nuts, Ty,” the giant man-child says in reply. He pulls out his phone and snaps a picture of Ace. “Just needed to get a photo of this amateur’s face before I go.”
Thatch stands, shoves all of his notebooks and pens and shit back into his backpack and pats Ace on the shoulder with a hard but loving hand. “Don’t mess with the king.”
Ace is laughing and shaking his head at the same time. “You’re such a dick.”
Thatch winks. “Never forget that I’ve got friends in all the right places.” And just like that, as quick as he came, he’s gone.
Ace looks back toward our professor and glares. “Thanks a lot, man.”