Fifty
Stacy
“Do you think it’s considered cheating if I sleep with my capstone professor to get out of the rest of this project?” Mae asks as we climb the stairs to my apartment for our weekly wine night.
I snagged an extra bottle of red at the store because, well, it’s been tough recently.
I snort at my best friend. “Considering your entire class grade is dependent on this project, I’d say yeah, probably considered cheating.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side,” she whines.
We round the second flight of stairs as I giggle. “I thought you loved the kids.”
One of Mae’s final classes as a music major requires her to complete a nonprofit, music-related project during her last semester.
She’s working with a local charity for underprivileged kids, helping them put together a spring choir concert for the children and, up until a couple of weeks ago, she hasn’t had much to say about the ordeal.
Luckily for me, her bitching and moaning has started to pick up, thoroughly distracting me from thinking about Reece whenever I’m with her.
Well, distracting me enough . My heart still aches every time he crosses my mind, my pulse still speeds up when I see him at practice or at the basketball games we cheer for, but I’m learning to live with it. Learning to live with it just like I’m learning to love myself.
Maybe once I learn, I can let Reece do it, too.
Mae mumbles something about an irritating co-worker and I’m about to respond before I’m brought up short by the sight of something sitting on my doormat.
A letter, it seems, held down by a bundle of red roses.
Something clogs my throat as I try to swallow, handing the bottles of wine to Mae and hesitantly picking up the note. My eyes scan the lined notebook paper, falling on the familiar script that I know as Reece’s handwriting.
“Okay, what the hell?” Mae demands, peering over my shoulder and down at the letter.
I startle at her voice, folding up the letter and shoving it into my jacket pocket.
“Let’s go inside,” I tell her, wiping away an escaped tear.
“Um, no? Hello, let’s talk about the fact that Reece is sending you love letters .”
“We’re not talking about anything,” I snap, picking up the bundle of flowers and fishing my keys out of my purse. I sigh, glancing back at Mae as she falls silent. “Sorry, I just… I’m not ready, okay?”
Mae nods, offering me a soft smile as I push into my warm apartment and out of the winter evening.
I’ve told my best friend the gist of my breakup with Reece but I haven’t dared to delve into the deep baggage that weighed down our relationship. I haven’t told her about the visit from my family or the realization that I have to believe that I’m worthy of love before I can let Reece love me.
I’m working hard on feeling like I’m enough. On feeling like maybe I do deserve love, deserve somebody as good and pure and kind as Reece Taylor.
I feel like I’m starting to get there.
?
“Found out today that Stacy Dunn is my stunt partner for the year.
I don’t know what the hell Propst is thinking.
Stacy loathes me. There’s not a chance in hell I make it to graduation with both of my testicles in tact.
Stace is terrifying. She’s a fucking force, a hurricane.
The power she holds chills me to my core and she doesn’t even know it.
She doesn’t even know that her bold, confident energy is as contagious as it is horrifying.
Horrifying and hot.
I wish I knew exactly what I did to piss off Stacy because I’ll be damned if that woman doesn’t bring me to my knees. She’s hotter than hell, self-assured, talented, witty, intelligent and, fuck, I’d do a lot of unspeakable things to have one night with her.
Not that I’d ever tell her that because, well, the testicles.
Now I just have to figure out how to get through this year without falling madly in love with the girl. Or without getting stabbed to death by her in my sleep.
Shit. Do I have a crush on Stacy Dunn?
Oh, also, Evan’s marrying Tashia. You’d think that’d be at the top of my list of things to write about tonight.
For some reason, it’s Stacy. ”
I grip the letter in my shaky hands as I lay in bed after Mae leaves, the words illuminated by the soft glow of my lamp. Tears are streaming down my face at the insignificant, silly, goofy thing I just read. It’s not a declaration of love, it’s not a poem or a novel or a song written just for me.
No, it’s better.
It’s Reece’s journal entry. It’s the first time he ever wrote about me. He’s letting me into his mind, he’s letting me see myself through his eyes.
You might hate some things about yourself but I promise the things I love about you outweigh them.
His words from the morning of our breakup ring through my head as my eyes scan his words over and over and over again.
On my fifth reread, my phone dings with a text.
Reece: Did you like my surprise?
A laugh blows past my lips as I wipe away a tear with the back of my hand and type up a reply.
Me: You’re really exposing yourself. Letting me read the inner workings of your mind? Dangerous territory, Taylor. Who knows what deep, dark secrets are trapped up there.
Bubbles immediately pop up, indicating that Reece is replying before they disappear. Nothing comes through for a minute so I pick up the letter to look over again. I’m halfway through when another text comes in.
Reece: If anyone knows my deep, dark secrets, it’s you.
I chew on my thumbnail and bite back a grin as the bubbles appear again.
Reece: A nod to when we first got together. I left notes and flowers at your door everyday until you finally agreed to go on a date with me. Remember?
My throat tightens as I think back to the first dinner we went to with my family. The ridiculously cheesy story I told them all about how Reece finally won me over.
He put flowers at my door every single day. Along with a note. A different note every day. The notes were basically love letters.
I bite down on my lip to keep myself from sobbing.
He’s a good man. He’s too good.
My phone goes off again.
Reece: Goodnight, angel. Sleep tight.
I don’t text back, clicking off my lamp and snuggling down into my bed. Something warms in my chest as I close my eyes and, for the first time since New Year’s, I fall asleep without crying.