Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
“Can I be a Blue Blood?” I ask lightly. “It sounds like a sweet gig.”
He smirks faintly. “Sorry, no girls allowed.”
“Ugh,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Typical.”
“Even if they were, you don’t have the stomach for it. It’s not all perks and power consolidation; there are responsibilities, too. You have to get your hands dirty sometimes, and since you have a moral opposition to eating meat because it means an animal had to die…”
“I probably don’t qualify.”
He shakes his head. “Definitely not.”
“Well, I could at least be a Blue Blood’s maid. I can clean and grocery shop. Maybe you should fire the one you have now and hire me instead,” I joke.
He smirks. “I’m game, but you have to wear a maid costume of my choosing while you work.”
“Hey, I deal with sexual harassment at work already. May as well at least be harassed by a guy I like.”
It was a joke, but his eyebrows rise and I see he doesn’t take it as one. “There better not be anyone harassing you at work.”
He has clearly never been a woman working in a restaurant.
I don’t want him to worry about it, though, so I assure him, “Nothing I can’t handle myself.” Looking for a swift subject change, I add, “Speaking of a fuckload of reading, I should probably get started on mine.”
“Yeah, me too.”
I grab my half-empty bottle of water and my phone and start to move, but then I realize this long-ass marble counter is actually a perfect study spot. “Should we do it here?”
A smirk tugs at his mouth. “I’d say it’s as good a spot as any.”
His tone is more suggestive than mine, so I shoot him a teasing look as I slide off the seat to go grab my books. “Maybe after our study date.”
___
I love and hate Tuesdays in near equal measures.
I start the day off with Calhoun’s iconic, all-encompassing introductory humanities course. You’d think introductory would mean they ease you in, but not at Calhoun.
On the very first Tuesday of the semester, they assigned us The Odyssey and said we needed to be finished reading it by Thursday. After crying at the sheer impossibility of juggling all four of my classes when I knew I needed to work as well, I loaded up on coffee and gave up most of my sleep to finish the book. I was stressed and exhausted and certainly didn’t enjoy the experience, but I got it done. Then, on Thursday, instead of our regular seminar on campus, they hosted it on the yacht of some wealthy alumnus. We enjoyed free Greek food and Odyssey-themed mocktails while we took a sunset cruise along the Charles River.
I haven’t had to finish a tome in two days since, but it is known as a book-a-week class from the first day of the semester until right up to finals, and while the load is brutal, the class is fascinating, so I consider it worthwhile.
Staying with Killian has seriously cut down on my time spent studying, though, so I make sure to get to school a little early today. Tuesday is my busiest school day. I have back-to-back class until 2:45, then there’s just enough time to hustle over to the Cutler lounge and eat something before the seminar begins.
In honor of Halloween, last week’s assigned book was Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. The writing assignment was to explore the theme of hubris and its consequences in the characters, how their actions reflect the dangers of unchecked ambition and the implications of playing god.
Reading about the lonely, rejected monster got me all up in my phantom feels, so I blazed right through the writing assignment. At the time, I was grateful for an easy week since everyone had Halloween parties they wanted to attend and a denser book would have made it difficult to find the time. But after the party I went to, maybe my time would have been better spent trying to wade through Ulysses.
I already submitted my writing assignment to the digital dropbox, but I spend a few minutes leafing through the book rereading passages so everything is nice and fresh for today’s lecture.
My phone vibrates, so I dig it out of my bag. I gave Killian back Hex’s burner to give him and transferred their numbers to my phone, so I’m expecting it to be Killian.
My stomach drops when I see it’s my mother instead.
“Hey sweetie, just checking in! Are you coming home for thanksgiving this year? I’m already planning the menu and trying to get an idea of how many people will be here. Let me know if you’re bringing anybody.”
Speaking of inexcusable assholes who play the victim in their own minds and never consider the consequences of their actions…
I start to delete the message without responding as I always do when she texts me, but on second thought, I tap her name at the top of the screen—Rita Wagner, I don’t have her saved as “mom” anymore—and tap the screen to edit her info. I delete her name entirely and type “Victor” in its place.