Flat-Out Love - Park Jessica (книги без регистрации бесплатно полностью TXT) 📗

The bedroom had a definite masculine feel to it, with dark bedding and wooden shelves and a few books, pictures, stereo equipment, and DVDs. A small flat-screen TV hung across from the bed, and an empty spot on the desk had just enough room for a laptop.

“Make yourself comfortable. The bathroom is right down the hall. I’ll put some fresh towels out for you, and… Oh, this must be Roger calling.” Erin turned her head toward a phone ringing from another room. “Do you like Thai?”

“That’s great. Thank you.”

“Take your time getting settled. There are empty drawers if you want to unpack,” Erin said, backing out of the room to take the call.

Julie sat down on the bed and scanned the room. Yup, this had boy written all over it. Not that she minded. She liked boys after all. But she was looking forward to making a run to Target and picking out her own girlie room accessories with some of the money she had left over from the summer. Thank God she’d won that essay contest the school district had run, or she would have had to use all her savings on a computer. It’d taken her weeks to write her piece on the United States’ responses to natural disasters, but it was not a bad trade for a new Mac laptop. It was a good thing that her friends didn’t follow high school news—unless it had to do with sports, dances, or a battle of the bands—because she would have been teased mercilessly for having participated in such a socially warped endeavor.

The truth was that her friends didn’t entirely get her. Her mom didn’t get her either, although she was certainly proud of how well Julie did in her classes. In fact, her mom had kept secret the fact that Julie had stayed after school to do extra-credit work for her English class.  Her friends would have snorted with laughter. And while Julie had been happy to sacrifice time after school to hear her teacher’s thoughts on Graham Greene, she hadn’t been willing to try to explain to her less academic friends why she had done so. They just didn’t care about school the way she did and half the time didn’t seem to understand what she was talking about. Jared, her ex, would have rolled his eyes at the notion of volunteering to spend more time studying.

Speaking of Jared, Julie wondered what he was doing right now. Probably sporting a toga and doing keg stands at the miserable state university he was attending. Asshole. She hoped he was lost in a crowd of dumb jocks and getting rejected by every busty, tank-top-wearing, fake-tanned airhead he hit on. Arizona could have him. And yet, Julie couldn’t resist seeing if he’d commented on her Facebook status.

She set her laptop on the desk and turned it on. Yes, she had her fancy phone; she just wasn’t a big fan of typing on the miniature keyboard if she didn’t have to. She liked capital letters and some semblance of punctuation, and the margin for error on the handheld device was too great. Julie was a traditional typist.

She realized that she needed a password to access the Watkins’ network. Great. She’d intruded on their house and now needed to ask for this. Internet access came before pride. Julie caught Erin as she was getting off the phone.

“Mrs. Watkins? I hate to bother you, but I was wondering if I could get the password to go online?”

“Call me Erin. Please. And of course you can. Let me get it from Matthew. He generated a random, meaningless code so that none of the neighbors would be able to pilfer our service. He is our own private securities expert. Hold on.” Erin disappeared for a moment and returned holding a scrap of paper.

“Thank you.” Julie took the paper and looked at the fifteen-digit password. Paranoid much? No one could remember this. Except, it seems, Matthew.

“I’ll let you know when dinner is here.” Erin shut the door.

Julie opened her Facebook profile page and frowned. Already eight comments under her status from concerned friends who actually gave a damn about her (“What happened????” “What R U going to do?” “Ack! Call me!”), but nothing from Jared. She clicked on his page. Huh. Well, it was nice that he had the time to post pictures of himself from his first days at college, yet hadn’t bothered to call or email her since he’d dumped her a month before they’d both left for college.

Jared had up and announced that they shouldn’t even attempt to maintain a long-distance relationship, and so he was preemptively breaking up with her. Not that it really mattered. Julie had no doubt that Jared was the classic case of a boy satisfying his homosexual impulses by participating in close-contact sports. God, how many times had she sat on the sidelines of one of his wrestling matches, applauding wildly while he ground his body against another spandex-wearing wrestler, a look of glee plastered across his face? No wonder he’d earned a wrestling scholarship. Some other girl could put up with his fumbling attempts to appear heterosexual, his big tongue pulsing disgustingly in her mouth, and his overly enthusiastic murmuring as he groped under her shirt. Good riddance. Julie may have been dumb enough to go out with him, but at least she’d never been dumb enough to sleep with him. Had he even been able to fake his way through it.

Julie should have dumped him herself months ago.

Now she was out of small-town Ohio, out of that below-average high school, and out of a social circle dominated by girls blindly cheering on their sports-playing boyfriends.

Boston could be different. It would be different. She could be who she was without worrying about dumbing down her vocabulary or hiding her interest in school.

Julie took a last peek at Jared and his new college-wrestling buddies, silently wished him well (or mostly well), and promptly removed him from her list of friends. Her new status update?

Julie Seagle Have survived streets of Boston with no permanent injury (save for crushing ego blow regarding stupidity of renting unseen room via nefarious internet site) and am currently in safe haven.

Julie leaned back in the desk chair. She hesitated for a moment, then checked the Gmail account that she’d set up. Her father was the only person who had that email address, and her inbox was empty. He’d write when he had time. She closed the laptop.

She sighed, blew her bangs out of her eyes, and picked up a framed picture from the desk. The photo was of someone bundled up in winter gear on a snowy hillside, snowboard in hand. It didn’t look like Matt, although it was hard to make out who it might be in the blurry picture.

Julie unpacked a few things from her suitcase, folding her clothes neatly and setting them into the dresser and hanging a few casual dresses in the closet. As much as she hated to keep all her clothes stuffed into suitcases, where they were getting permanently wrinkled, it didn’t seem right to unpack everything she had as though she were moving in for the long haul.

After dinner she would go online and start trying to find somewhere to live. Whitney’s freshman orientation was on Thursday, so that gave her all day tomorrow to come up with something. She’d really love to take care of this quickly, and, in a city this big, there simply had to be something decent available.

She glared at her reflection in the mirror and quickly rifled through her luggage until she located her makeup bag and flat iron. A few minutes later, she practically resembled a normal human being again. Maybe not by cheerleader standards, but she’d get through dinner without frightening anyone and then take a good long shower before bed.

“Julie? Do you need anything?” Matt knocked as he opened the door.

“I thought you were supposed to be studying,” she teased. “Thanks, I’m all set. Whose room am I in, by the way?”

“Finn’s.” He stared over her shoulder, looking vacantly into the room. “He’s away. Traveling.”