Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Ace’s eyebrows rise subtly, and I nod. We both know how Finn would cope—with an inordinate number of fists in faces.
He loves her for her—a love that, at its core, is one of ultimate acceptance and embracing another person for everything they are—their strengths, their weaknesses, their flaws, their everything. He doesn’t give a shit if she is going to be in a wheelchair for the rest of her life. He just wants her to be there, beside him, forever.
And that’s how you love Lexi too.
The thought is a steel-toed boot in my gut. I love Lexi for everything that she is. Hell, even the quirkiest things about her are utterly endearing to me.
I love the way she thinks. I love the way she responds. I love everything about her—even the parts of her that make me hurt like this waiting for her to figure out she feels the same.
Ace and Finn continue to talk about Scottie’s possible surgery, and while I want to give my friend all my attention—I know I should—I can’t stop myself from pulling my phone out of my pocket and sending Lexi a message.
We haven’t spoken since Friday night, but I’ll be damned if I’m just going to walk away from her without a fucking fight.
Me: I don’t like how things ended on Friday, Lex. When you’re ready, we need to talk.
I guess I shouldn’t be shocked when, a minute later, no response comes. And after another five minutes and ten minutes and fifteen minutes pass by, I still haven’t heard a peep from her.
But I’ll wait. That’s what love does.
For the next two weeks, I’ll be fully immersed in Dragons’ football anyway, on the practice field or in the weight room for at least eight hours a day until August 19th. And after that, we’ll be balls deep into preparing for our first game of the season on August 30th against Georgia.
I’ll barely have time to sleep, much less eat.
It’ll be the perfect distraction. I’ve walked away and waited for Lexi before. I can do it again.
Right?
Ha. Good luck with that.
Wednesday, August 6th
Lexi
Coffee in hand, I head toward my home-away-from-home, my favorite lab on campus. But just before I can swipe my keycard to enter the building, my phone vibrates in the pocket of my jean shorts.
Blake Boden: I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stopped myself from calling or texting you. Stopped myself from going to your apartment. Stopped myself from doing a lot of things. But fuck, Lexi. I miss you. I really fucking miss you.
I have to shut my eyes for a brief moment, my mind racing with a million different thoughts and my heart thrumming unsteadily inside my chest.
He misses me. And, if I’m honest, I miss going to bed with him at night and waking up to him in the morning more than I care to admit. I had gotten so used to his comforting presence in my life that the abrupt change has been hard for me to adjust to.
But I’ve never really been good with change. My brain prefers schedules and mapped-out plans, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that something like this would cause me internal anxiety.
There’s a part of me that wants to text him back. That wants to tell him that I do miss him too. But there’s another part of me that feels so unsure about all of it. So, I simply shove my phone back into my pocket and swipe my keycard to enter the lab.
Blake is still at the forefront of my mind, but I sit down and get myself set up, hoping that, eventually, I’ll find my usual studious and focused rhythm.
The lab is empty, and I’m honestly relieved Ginger isn’t here. Because if she were, I fear she might ask me about Blake, and I honestly don’t know how I’d react to that.
I input my updated data on statistical chances for AI-technology errors into the diagnostic test app I created for my own personal use in finalizing my dissertation. The updated data shows zero change from what I had originally entered prior to finishing my dissertation, but still, I never go off assumptions.
The internal results show no major differential change, and for some reason, I feel annoyed that I don’t need to make any last-minute updates to my dissertation.
A sigh escapes my lungs, the opposite reaction one should have when they realize there are zero errors with the final milestone of their graduate school career.
And it’s not long before my phone is back in my hands and I’m staring down at the last text Blake sent me. The words I miss you standing out the most of them all.
“What are you doing?” a familiar voice grabs my attention, and I look up to find Connor walking into the lab.