Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Crew begins serving himself, and my phone beeps in my pocket, so I wipe my hands on a napkin quickly and pull it out.
Jess: Put me out of my misery. Come over. It’s been too long.
Shaking my head, I text him back.
Me: It’s been approximately twenty-seven hours. You’ll be fine.
Jess: That was a quickie. Didn’t count. Come celebrate with me.
A laugh spurts from me and then my phone is yanked from my hand.
“Hey!” I frown at Crew, reaching for it, but he holds it over my head like a teenager. “What the heck?” I slap my hands on my thighs.
“What the fuck’s he talking about, a quickie? And when did you see him yesterday? I was with you all day.”
“I had coffee with him in the morning. He has this cool machine and all these sweet syrups and—”
“You were with him while I was asleep?”
“Uh… yeah? I’m not much for coffee, but like I said… syrups and he always has whipped cream.”
Crew scoffs, glaring at the screen when it beeps again. “Bet he fucking does. What’s he mean, celebrate? Celebrate what?”
“Graduation.”
Crew’s head snaps to mine, creases forming along his forehead. “What?”
“Thursday was my last final. I’m done.” I smile, dragging my shoulders up in a long shrug.
His eyes hold mine for a long moment, and slowly, the tension in his muscles eases, a shadow flickering over his features as he glances away briefly. “You didn’t even tell me.”
“Oh, I’m not having a party or anything. I’m not even going to walk across the stage next week.”
“Why? Your parents will want you to. I can’t believe they’re allowing that.”
“I’m an adult, and it was my decision,” I tell him. “They know walking across the stage isn’t something I want to do, all those people staring at me while I try not to trip on the carpet. No way. I’m just happy I did it. There were times I really wanted to go home, but I stuck it out. And they’re proud.”
Crew’s lips form a tight line. “This is fucking dumb. You shouldn’t be here working. You should be out partying with friends.”
He glares, and I look down.
What friends, I want to say, but don’t, instead following with a different truth. “This is how I wanted to spend my weekend, and you’re here so…” I meet his gaze. “It’s a celebration better than I could have expected.”
Crew opens his mouth, but Layla slides up.
“Move over, brute. I’m starving again, and turn on the lights on your way by, would you?”
Sliding my phone into my back pocket, he nods, grabs his plate, and off he goes.
Moments later, soft-blue LED lights flick on around us.
My eyes slide toward Crew, and he looks back at the same moment.
“And someone thought you wouldn’t come,” Layla whispers, drawing my attention.
We share a low laugh and eat our plates of food in silence before making our way to the “pillow pad,” as Layal explained it—it’s what every camper sets up at the edge of their site come nightfall, helping make the large, open circle more complete.
It’s basically a picnic-style setting, blankets and pillows organized however you want, creating a chill spot to people-watch.
The sun is almost set now, the grassy hill area nearly lit by nothing but string lights for those who thought to bring some, and a few standard ones lit up with generators.
I drop down beside Layla, and we watch as camper after camper migrates toward the middle, the four-hundred-yard clearing between all of us becoming one giant-ass party.
I imagine the campus parties this weekend are the exact opposite of this—a lively kind of mellow. Dramaless.
It’s the perfect way to celebrate the end of one stage of my life and welcome the next. If the next looks anything like this, I’d have more than I thought possible.
Sneaking a glance at Crew, I find him watching me, and I swear, he can read my mind.
He doesn’t look away, and neither do I, but this time, he’s the one who smiles first. It’s small, one sided, but it’s there.
“Man, I wish I could get drunk,” Layla pouts, attempting to tug her sweater over her bump, but it won’t stretch beyond her belly button. “You guys seem so chill. I want to be chill.”
Willie drapes his arms over her, and she grabs on to his forearms. “You are chill, babe, but you’re also getting cranky. Let’s get my girls to bed, hmm?”
Layla smacks him as she sits up, waiting for him to stand behind her. “Cute. Say something to get you cut off and follow it up without something worthy of a king’s chair.”
“I will pack this shit up right now, girl. Don’t tease.” Willie hauls her to her feet with a smile. “Night, guys.”
“Start breakfast at seven, so we can prep by eight?” Crew asks, looking up at him.