Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Jean was as swayed by the argument this time as he was the last, and he stubbornly insisted, “It is your fifth year. They will put a camera in your face and ask you what your hopes are for graduation. If word gets out you are considering other careers, it will jeopardize your chances and shrink your prospective pool. What recruiter will fight for a man who is already looking elsewhere?”
How easily Jean laid bare that gnawing fear in Jeremy’s bones. Jeremy looked away, but not quickly enough. Something showed on his face, judging by the edge in Jean’s insistent, “Jeremy.”
Jeremy stopped on the seventh landing to face him. Jean wasn’t expecting it, and he nearly ran Jeremy over when he lengthened his stride to catch up. Jeremy dug his feet in, refusing to budge, and Jean caught his chin so he could get a good look at Jeremy’s face.
Jeremy offered him a wry smile. Keeping an easy tone was second nature, but it did nothing to take the frustration out of Jean’s stare. “It’s important to my parents that I at least consider it, so I will. It’ll be fine, Jean, I promise. The test itself isn’t a commitment. Even if Harvard accepts me, I have until spring to make a final decision.”
Invoking his parents was the right move; Jean gave ground to higher authority too readily to encourage rebellion in his captain. After a few tense moments Jean let go of him, and Jeremy was able to turn away unchallenged. He took the last flight up and let them out onto the eighth floor. A glance from their room key to the signs on the walls had him turning right down the hallway.
The Trojans were scattered across two or three floors, but Rhemann had attempted to keep friend groups as close together as possible when handing out keys. Cat and Laila should be on his hall somewhere, but Jeremy had forgotten to ask their room number. He texted his own to Laila instead, and he’d just toed out of his sneakers when she rapped on the door. Jean was closer, so he let her in. She was half-changed out already, dark tights under a knee-length skirt and only a pale camisole on top. Jeremy didn’t miss the way Jean pointedly stared at the ceiling as she carried their clothes over to the nearer bed.
“Iron’s on the shelf in the closet if you need it,” she said. “We’ll see you downstairs.”
“Thanks,” Jeremy said, and Laila left. Jeremy went to investigate the state of his clothes while Jean contemplated his life’s choices near the door. Jeremy’s thoughts wandered as he dressed: Laila, to his sister, to Renee’s picture that had disappeared from Jean’s desk shortly after they teased Jean about her. None of the three looked anything alike, leaving Jean’s taste in women an utter mystery. Jeremy considered asking, but instead he said, “Mom thinks I should marry Laila.”
It was enough to get Jean’s undivided attention, at least until Jeremy peeled his tank top off. Jean immediately found something else to stare at, like he always did when Jeremy was in varying stages of undress. It was horrifically inappropriate fighting for Jean’s attention like this, Jeremy knew; shame was a prickling heat eating away at his satisfaction. He was quick to tug his shirt on, a simple white button-up with a snazzy tie to brighten it, but Jean didn’t move until Jeremy was buttoning his slacks.
“Ridiculous,” was all Jean had to say as he unzipped the bag with his clothes.
Jeremy sprawled on his bed to wait for Jean, but in the silence his thoughts threatened to wander. He slung an arm across his eyes and said, “I wonder if they’ve got the Foxes’ game on demand. Maybe we can watch it when we get back to the room tonight.”
He’d seen the score last night but not the match; the three-hour time difference and a long afternoon practice saw to that. It was easier to keep up with on game nights, since afternoon practice was scratched in favor of short, low-level warm-ups. Jeremy could put it on as background noise in the locker room and at least catch the first bit. The Foxes had won their first match, but only by a single point. Jeremy was curious to know if that close call was due to the skill of their opponents or their combative freshmen fracturing the lineup.
It was inevitable his thoughts would turn from the Foxes to their archrivals, and Jeremy asked, “Are you worried about the Ravens?”
“No.”
The south kicked off the season last night, but the Ravens hadn’t played. Coach Rossi claimed most of his lineup was out sick with a stomach bug, and Edgar Allan provided testimony from a half-dozen professors to support his story. A makeup match was scheduled for Thanksgiving week. Another string of bad luck for the beleaguered team, Jeremy had said to Kevin, but Kevin had no patience for the Ravens’ lies.