“I’m going to give it my all. I’m going to seek help when I need it.”From Julia as often as possible.“I’m going to dedicate my life to these classes…”And making the girl in all of them fall in love with me.
“This is quite the big challenge, Ace,” Mrs. Patreetus says. “But I don’t know if this is a good plan. I’m not so sure it’s setting you up for success.”
Shit.It’s time to really lay it on—thicker than the mustard that’s currently sitting on her footlong.
“Mrs. Patreetus, you know, I really appreciate that your goals revolve around setting me up for success. I can’t tell you how much that means to me,” I say and avert my eyes for a long moment, my gaze a little hesitant, a little shy, a little Hollywood Oscar-worthy. “I don’t have a lot of people in my life who do that for me. It makes me feel really comfortable around you, Cynthia. Do you mind if I call you Cynthia?”
“Uh. I—”
“My dad owns Kelly Financial,” I cut her off on purpose. “Oneof the biggest investment and accounting firms on Wall Street these days. It’s quite big shoes to fill, you know?” I sigh. “Of course you know. You’ve clearly worked your way up to success. Yours is the kind of job that you have to be incredibly qualified for. And I guess, in a way, when I first started here at Dickson, I was afraid to challenge myself. Afraid of failure because of how high my father has set the bar. But making decisions out of fear is never a good idea, you know?”
She lifts one shoulder in acknowledgment. “You’re right, Ace. Fear can be a big deterrent in reaching your full potential.”
“And that’s all I want to do, Cynthia.” I smile at her, really smile at her in a way that begs and pleads but also slowly pulls her into my web. “I want to reach my full potential. I want to create my own path. I want to step out of the shadows of my father’s big fat feet and be the best version of Ace Kelly I can be.”
She’s nodding along with me now.
“And when I set my mind to something, Cynthia? Well, there’s not much stopping me. It’s a familial trait. DNA coded. And I don’t think we should fight it. Do you?”
Cynthia stares at me for a long moment, before letting out a deep exhale of air and moving her focus back to her laptop screen. “Well, Ace, I can’t make any promises, but I can certainly try my best to get you in all the classes you want.”
Hell fucking yes.
“You’re the best, Cynthia.” I flash her my most charismatic smile. “See? This is why everyone on campus says that you’re the best counselor.”
“No one says that,” she responds, and a faint hint of a blush touches her cheeks.
“Trust me, Cynthia. Everyone says that.”
She smiles as she starts to work on updating my schedule, and I have a sneaking suspicion that my sweet Cynthia is buttered up enough to secure all the classes I need tosolidify another phase of my plan to win Julia’s heart.
Wednesday, June 25th
Julia
My mom walks around the apartment I’m nearly certain isthe one,while I hang back to give her space. Her mouth is set in a firm line as she moves from the living room to the kitchen, opening each cabinet like she’s inspecting them for hidden sins.
My phone buzzes in my purse.
Ace: how’s apartment hunting going
I glance toward my mom, who is now inspecting the freaking range hood over the stove. She squints up at it like it’s personally offended her.
“I wonder if this is up to code,” she mutters to herself. She knows jack shit about range hoods or stoves or anything that requires technical knowledge, but she’s certainly putting on a good show of testing the fan.
Me: I mean, I found a place I love, but Georgia is still a skeptic.
Ace: you think you found THE place???
I move my eyes around the apartment, taking in the way the sunlight casts gorgeous shadows across the hardwood floor. Goodness, I can picture myself living here. I can picture myself making this space my own.
Me: Yes. I really want this one.
“Are you sure you don’t want to live at home, honey?” my mom asks, wringing her hands with nerves as she continues to move around the kitchen, running her fingers across the small butcher-block island in the center of it. “I’m sure your dad would pay for a driver or even bring you in himself when he’s coming into the office.”
I smile toward the living room windows and adjacent fire escape without turning around so she can’t see, gentling my response appropriately. My mom means well in every sense of the phrase—she is kind, generous, patient, and honestly the best mom I ever could have asked for. She’s not trying to control me or cramp my style or keep me a kid like I know some other moms might be if they suggested I stay home instead of spreading my wings—she’s just a worrier. She wants the most for me—safety, happiness, success—and is downright terrified of making a decision in opposition to that goal.
For my freshman year at Dickson, I lived in the dorms. Which is still technically moving out, but it’s not as big of a deal as moving out into your own apartment. Which is what I’m trying to achieve right now. I can imagine it’s creating a little bit of an internal crisis for my mom.
