Page 118 of Edge of Unbroken

“Born ready.”

“Well, not surprisingly, I didn’t get into Columbia,” I say, feeling just a tad deflated. I didn’t have high hopes of getting in—Columbia’s acceptance rate is only about four percent, it’s considered an elite school for a reason—but the idea of going to the same school as Ronan in the fall was one I could definitely get used to.

“I’m sorry, Cat,” Ronan says. “But hey, Duke and NYU, that’s a fucking feat. You already got into more colleges than I did.”

I giggle. “But you only applied to Columbia.”

“That’s beside the point,” he chuckles. “Who are you still waiting to hear from?”

“Only Brown and Montana.”

“I sincerely hope you get a rejection from Montana,” Ronan says, making me laugh.

“Why? You don’t want me moving up there?” I ask with a grin.

“Not really. I’d much rather have you close by. Or at least close-ish. Definitelynottwo thousand miles away.”

“And why is that?” I ask, flat-out flirting with him.

“Easier to get into your pants that way.”

I snort out a laugh. “Oh, is that all you’re concerned about? Getting into my pants?”

“It’s a huge priority of mine. Especially now that you told me about your new taste in underwear.”

“I can’t wait to show them to you,” I say, lowering my voice again.

“I can’t wait to see them on you… and then take them off you,” he growls.

“What are you going to do once you take them off me?”

“Maybe the better question would be: what do you want me to do once I take them off you?”

Already that familiar feeling of need begins to gather in my stomach. This has been a pattern of ours when we talk on the weekend; we have a real knack for getting each other way too worked up while we’re unable to do anything about it.

“Are you sure you want me to tell you right now? Because I recall you telling me that this doesn’t help your pent-up situation,” I tease.

“Too late,” he says. “I’m already rock-hard, might as well keep going.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, because all I’m craving right now is—”

There’s a single loud knock on my door, followed by my mom throwing open the door and stepping over the threshold, an expectant look on her face.

“I heard your voice, so I figured you’re talking to Ronan. Have you opened your letters yet?” she asks giddily, her eyebrows raised.

Ronan sighs. “To be continued, I guess.”

“Oh, hi Ran!” my mom shouts into the room more loudly than necessary.

“Hey, Jen!”

My mom wrings her hands. “So? Have you opened them?”

“Yes,” I say with a grin. “I got a rejection from Columbia, but I got into NYU and Duke!”

My mom squeals and does a weird kind of dance before rushing me and pulling me into her arms. She knocks my phone off my bed and it lands on the floor with a loud thunk.

“Sweet pea! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. I can’t wait to tell your dad! Can I tell your dad or do you want to? Oh my god, I’m so proud of you!” she says, still squeezing me tightly.

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