Chapters (53)
- Cover
- Part 1
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- Part II
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- Part III
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- DAWN.
- EMILY.
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Back Cover
I sip my drink, delighting in its sugary sting, and try to come up with an appropriate response. I can’t relate at all to what she is saying. If anything, I relate to the professor. I am the professor to Thomas. I make him go down on me and call me talented and I monologue at him and smoke his weed and give him almost nothing in return, save one blow job that lasted about forty-five seconds. I try, for the first time, to see things from Thomas’s perspective. What advice do his friends give him? If I was someone who cared about him, what would I say?
“Block his number,” I say.
“Ughhhhh.” She hunches over, then pops up. “That’s what all my friends say.” She takes a big sip of her Mountain Dew. “This is so good, oh my gosh. I don’t want to talk about the professor. Let’s talk about something else … How has your week been?”
“Pretty good,” I say. “I got coffee with my estranged father and ran into my childhood best friend. That was kind of odd.”
“Wow,” she says. “That’s a lot.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m glad I’m getting along with my dad, but it was weird to see Zoe. That’s her name, my childhood best friend. I kind of ghosted her. But she didn’t seem mad at all. She was wearing ballet flats and gave me her card.”
“Ballet flats,” Cinnamon says, brow furrowed. “Let me see the card.”
I search my wallet and then hand the card to her.
“Zoe May Designs,” she says. “I can picture this person perfectly and I cannot picture you speaking to her.”
“Neither can I.”
A text from Beau pops up on my phone. Just dropped off the film. :)
“He is smitten,” Cinnamon says.
“I just want to fuck him so bad. I’ve never wanted to fuck anyone this bad, ever.”
“That’s a strong statement for a Scorpio stellium,” she says.
“I know,” I say. “My sex drive is not a joke. But this is more than sex. I, like, I don’t know. I want to become the same person or something, feel the same thing, even if it’s just for a few minutes.”
Cinnamon looks at her lap. “That’s how I feel about the professor,” she says softly, then takes another sip of her drink and perks up. “So how are we going to play it?”