Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I sit on my desk chair and wheel it to the window. My room overlooks one of the lawns that leads toward the arts department and an off-campus café. It’s always busy out there, so I cross my arms on the windowsill and distract myself while waiting for Foster.
He doesn’t take long.
I shoot up from my chair the second I hear the knock on the door, then remind myself to take a breath. It’s only Foster.
Only the most attractive guy I’ve ever seen.
Nope. I need to distance myself from those thoughts. I’ve managed to do it for the past three years, and there’s no reason why spending time with him should change anything.
Not if I want to keep my sanity.
Him teasing me about showering together doesn’t help either. He might be joking, but those images too easily jump into my brain.
“How do you keep getting in without a key?” I ask as I pull my door open.
“I can’t tell you all my secrets.” His warm gaze sweeps over me. “Good, you’re ready. Let’s go.”
“What’s next on your list?” I follow Foster from my room and lock the door behind me.
“A surprise.”
“Well, that’s reassuring.”
“That’s the spirit.”
I can’t help my laugh. “Your last surprise left me requiring a long, hot shower.”
Foster groans. “There are so many dirty things I could say right now, but I’ll bite my tongue.”
Good. Because again, images.
So. Many. Images.
Foster takes me to lunch at an off-campus place stating, “Experience number three: don’t eat all meals in the dining hall. Find favorite local hangouts.”
“That only works if you have the money to splurge on food when you can get it for free at school.”
“Good thing this is my treat then.”
After lunch, we tick a few smaller things off the list like talk to a random person in none of your classes and make friends—though this one is all on Foster because everyone knows who he is. I just stand there and nod like I understand what getting in the crease means. I really hope they’re still talking about hockey. I tuned out as soon as they said something about the team and skates and ice.
“Sorry about that,” Foster murmurs as we pull ourselves away. “This was supposed to be about you meeting someone random.”
“I don’t think that will happen if I’m in the presence of the great and powerful Foster Grant.”
He shudders. “I kinda hate that.”
“Why?”
He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter.”
“You know, I met Ray, so technically I did that one on my own.”
“Good point.”
“Okay, where to next?”
A smile breaks out on his face. “Number … I can’t remember: Do something campus cliché.” He points to a group of people playing hacky sack.
“You think I’m coordinated enough to do”—I point—“that? Have you been paying attention at all?”
“I know you don’t like groups, but there’s only four of them.”
“I’m not even talking about the people this time.”
He still drags me over there anyway. And surprise, surprise, I suck at it.
But even though I suck, I actually enjoy trying something new.
It’s one of the reasons I came here for my grad program. I need to get out of my comfort zone more often.
I find it interesting that one Grant brother was happy to support my instinct to be sheltered—maybe too sheltered—while the other is almost literally shoving me off the edge.
Even though this afternoon’s activities aren’t exactly high stakes, just being out and spending time with Foster makes me smile more than I have in a long time. And I know he’s only doing this to be nice or maybe because he feels a sense of responsibility for me, but I let myself forget those reservations for the day.
I let myself have … fun.
It’s late afternoon by the time Foster tells me we’re hitting pause to grab a couple of things. We head off campus to buy a six-pack of beer, some sandwiches, and snacks, then stop by his dorm.
“Maybe I’ll wait out here,” I say.
“Nope, this is part of it. Come on.”
Hesitantly, I follow Foster into his building and wait outside his room while he grabs whatever it is he needs. He still won’t tell me what we’re doing here, but when he emerges with a blanket folded over his arm, I put the pieces together.
“Are we having a picnic?”
“Number eleven on your list. Remember what it is?”
I shake my head. “No clue.”
“Sneak in somewhere you’re not supposed to go.”
“Umm …” I follow him back down the hall. “We’re not doing anything illegal, are we?”
He laughs. “No.”
Thank God.
“Just against school rules.”
“Foster! What if we’re caught? What if they kick us out and then I’ll have no hope of getting my master’s and I’ll have to kiss my doctorate goodbye?”
“Whoa.” He stops in front of me and rests his free hand on my shoulder. “First, relax. Second, I come up here all the time, and I haven’t been caught yet.”