I glance down, bracing myself for a text from Mom. I frown. It’s not her.
BOOK BOYFRIEND
Donovan.
I let the call ring out, but as soon as it hits voicemail, he tries again.
BOOK BOYFRIEND
I’m hit with the sudden urge to step on my phone. After his second attempt, he sends a text.
BOOK BOYFRIEND: In case you’re wondering, it’s Don! But since you’re single, I’m guessing you knew that already…
CARRIE:Oh, it’s you! I actually have a guy in every city, so thanks for clarifying. I was about to send you a nude.
BOOK BOYFRIEND: Stop flirting with me, Carrie!
CARRIE:You wish! I just changed your name in my contacts, btw.
Then I send a screenshot of his contact profile.
WOLINSKILLMENOW:Ouch. That one cuts deep
CARRIE:What do you want, Wolinski? You know we’re meeting in two hours, right?
WOLINSKILLMENOW:That’s the thing, something’s come up. Can we reschedule?
CARRIE:I thought you’d never ask!
WOLINSKILLMENOW:Four tomorrow. Good for you?
CARRIE:Works for me
WOLINSKILLMENOW:Any tips to keep me going till then?
CARRIE:Use protection.
WOLINSKILLMENOW:Is sex all you ever think about?
CARRIE:Takes one to know one.
WOLINSKILLMENOW:I’m devastated, by the way. I really wanted to see you today. You’re always so sweet to me.
CARRIE:I live to help. Oh, and btw NEVER call me again.
WOLINSKILLMENOW:You should NEVER have said that!
I drop my phone on my bedside table and prize open my laptop, readying for a hard day’s work. I spend a while shuffling around my notes and adding a little personal research here and there, but the truth is I’m struggling to focus. I was all geared up to spend the afternoon with Wolinski, and I’m almost disappointed he canceled. It pains me to say it, but I actually had fun with him at Sweety’s.Damn. My life must really suck.
I slam my computer shut and stretch out on my bed with the new book I got this morning, and by the end of chapter 6, I’m dying to message Donovan. Somehow, that little fucker’s wormed his way into my brain, and now instead of it just switching off and enjoying the story, it’s busy taking notes, picking out all the little details Wolinski could use.
I end up grabbing my notebook and jotting down a list. By the time I close my book at 2:00 a.m., I’ve made a life-changingdecision—I’m quitting romance. I’m officially switching to thrillers. Because I just read an entire novel imaginingWolinski’s face plastered onto the hero.
And that is absolutely unacceptable.
IT’S 3:47 P.M. AND THERE’Sbeen no sign of my favorite preschooler. Fine by me. If he thinks he can just keep me hanging around, though, he’s got another thing coming. I told him I’m super strict, and I definitely don’t do lateness. He’s got thirteen minutes. If he’s not at my dorm by then, there’ll be hell to pay. Though why am I freaking out, when he isn’t even late yet?
A message pops up on my phone.
