Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
The house is my pride, my joy, and pretty much my baby. I pull a dress shirt off a hanger and walk out to the kitchen for my phone. I know a lot of deans like that old feel of corduroy and a tweed blazer, but that’s not me. I don’t even wear a suit unless I’m forced to wear one.
Turning off sleep mode, I move to my refrigerator for some orange juice, checking the traffic on PCH. It’s crap as usual, so I’ll take my bike—it needs to stretch its legs, so to speak, anyway.
“Jesus.” I sigh and frown at the text from Skylar.
SKYLAR: Want to grab lunch?
Taking another quick swig, I glance at the five, no six, texts from her earlier. They range from questions about my trip to what kind of wine did we drink on our first date.
I don’t bother responding or reading the rest, and pocket my phone. I should have known better. This is my fault. But what part of it’s over is she not comprehending? It’s been almost a month. When I was in Spain, I was lulled into thinking she’d moved on, since her calls and incessant texts had slowed.
Clearly, we’re not going back to our former friendly banter. Who am I kidding? Much like all my relationships, as soon as I put my dick in, the friend thing goes out the window.
Women can’t seem to understand I’m not boyfriend material. And it’s not like I lie to them or lead them on. I’m nothing but honest.
I. Don’t. Want. A. Relationship. Pretty simple. I don’t have time for one, and honestly, no one holds my interest mentally or physically for more than a month or so anyway. And they all say the same thing: Don’t worry, we’re on the same page. Then I fuck them, and that page changes.
With a shake of my head, I jerk on my shoes, grab my bag full of work stuff, and suit up for the ride. Trying to shrug off an incoming headache thanks to Skylar and her drama, I lock my door. Good thing Misty blew me. It’s left me with a small amount of calm and patience.
Heading to my Suzuki Hayabusa, I take a breath and look around. The morning mist is burning off, I’m getting ready for a new semester, and life is good. All this other shit is just dribble and will work itself out as I straddle my baby and start her up. An instant buzz of adrenaline flows through my veins as I twist the throttle and gun the bike out of my garage and onto PCH.
I should obey the law and wear a helmet. Not today, though. Leaning forward, I grin, my dick getting hard with the vibration of the bike. Shifting, I increase my speed, swerving in and out of the lanes as the ocean breeze whips my face.
I need this. Even if I get pulled over, I’ll accept the consequences. Because right now I crave the rush, the feeling that I’m completely alive. A shrink would say I’m an adrenaline junkie, and that would be right.
I do push myself.
I do get off on things that might scare others.
It’s how I’m wired. It drives me to want more, be more. It’s how I succeed. Pushing boundaries, living on the edge, that’s what turns me on.
ALEXANDREA
I want to cry, but I can’t. I’m frantically running down the hall, trying to make it, yet I know I’m out of time. I’m late.
Late.
It’s like a foreign word to me. I’m never late. I’m always the early one. But the Uber driver showed up fifteen minutes behind schedule, and we hit morning traffic on PCH. All that was still bearable. I didn’t completely lose it and panic until I lugged my hefty, overpacked backpack out of the car, only to be reminded of the sheer magnitude of this campus.
It’s huge.
And gorgeous, with enormous white Spanish villas, and lots of smaller buildings wrapped around picturesque green lawns, almost like a giant square. Palm trees sway with the ocean breeze as I take in the center courtyard. White rocks with red and purple flowers form the famous CAU logo. Flags for the state of California, CAU, and the United States slam home that this is one of the oldest, most prestigious private universities on the West Coast.
My parents came with me last year for the tour, but I don’t it remember it being this awe- inspiring. Originally, I’d planned to visit the campus on Friday to walk around and become a little more familiar with it so I could avoid what I’m doing right now.
“Stupid car,” I hiss under my breath. I can’t think about that right now. I’ll freak out later. Right now, please God, let this be the right room.
I look at my schedule on my phone, then up at the room number. This is it. I swing the door open, glancing at the time on the phone. Twelve minutes late. That’s not too bad. I mean, it’s the first day and all. Hopefully, class hasn’t even started.