Page 8 of Take Care, Taylor
“That’s what I’ve heard.”
“Because it’s true!” She smiled again, pressing her lips to mine. “Hopefully the physical therapy will heal your brain, too.”
I laughed and walked her to the white BMW I’d bought her for her birthday. After watching her buckle up, I kissed her once more and waved her off.
The moment she disappeared, I slid behind the wheel of my car and sped toward Exeter’s campus.
The farther I drove from the stadium, the quieter it got—no roaring fans, no sports radio, just the hum of tires and the sound of my own breathing.
Thankfully, it was a private school that was gated twenty acres all around, which meant no fans, no reporters lurking for photos.
I highly doubted any of my fellow scholars gave a damn about football.
At least, I hoped not.
After grabbing my check-in packet from the office, I followed the map to Luxury Graduate Plaza, searching for suite 7B.
Every door along the hall featured a large wreath made of pens, each labeled with two names on a carved Post-it note.
I have to share a damn room?
When I made it to 7B, I stopped dead in my tracks.
Welcome Residents!
Taylor Wolff
Audrey Parker
My pulse slammed against my wrist brace.
The sight of that second name shouldn’t have had any effect on me, and I refused to believe it was the same Audrey Parker I knew, but my blood was running cold.
It can’t be…
It’d been years since I saw her, years since I received one of her ridiculous emails or letters, and I refused to believe that she still existed in a world that would ever collide with mine.
I blinked several times, certain this had to be a mistake, but all twelve letters in her name remained.
Refusing to accept it, I stepped inside the suite and walked around.
The brochure hadn’t exaggerated at all; the open living room offered a full view of the beach, and the all-white kitchen and dining room looked like they’d been plucked from an oceanfront condo in Miami.
I walked down the hall to the master bathroom and then peered into both of the fully furnished bedrooms. One was decked out in light gray, while the other was covered in Audrey’s favorite color: mint green.
Why the fuck do I even remember that?
I left the suite and decided to come back in the morning after getting my head checked.
This better be a different fucking Audrey Parker...
TRACK 2. YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN, KID (3:19)
AUDREY
“Come on, come on, come onnnn!” I refreshed my inbox for the umpteenth time, but my email inbox remained the same.
No new messages. No delivery alerts. No acceptance message from the Postscript Scholars Program.
