AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“But it does upset you,” he stated.
I looked down at the napkin I’d strangled to death, wanting to say so much but not knowing how to put it into words. Of course, it upset me but there was nothing I could do about it. My only hope was to someday make Auggie take more notice of me than his company and the women who drifted in and out of his life like the waves of the ocean.
“I hit a nerve; I’m sorry,” Kane whispered.
“Please, don’t apologize,” I spoke into my lap.
Kane reached across the small table and tipped my chin up with his finger. I was met with a smile. For a moment he seemed lost in thought. “Your eyes are truly stunning.”
My cheeks burned.
“Am I being too forward with you?” he inquired.
“No, it’s just I’m not used to such compliments.”
“That’s a shame.” His finger dropped, and he sat back. “Scarlett, let’s make a deal not to speak about our parents’ relationship or let them affect our budding friendship.”
Oh. Friendship. Of course, that’s what he wanted with me. I was silly to think anything different. Not only was he older than me, but he probably had hundreds of beautiful, more experienced women begging for his attention. Actually, I knew he did at the office. I’d overheard a group of women in the break room talking. One of the women had said, “That Kane, what I wouldn’t give to know him biblically.” Her friend had laughed and responded, “I’d love to raise Cain with him.” The first woman had replied, “I’m sure he has a little Cain in him. Look at the man.” I’d walked out after they started making wagers about who would be the first to sleep with him.
“Sounds good to me.” I had no idea what else to say.
He held out his hand. “Let’s shake on it.”
I thought it was strange but placed my hand in his. Once again, a surge of something wonderful and unknown coursed through me. His hand closed around mine. But he didn’t shake it—he just held on to it for several moments.
“Do we have a deal, darlin’?” His seductive southern drawl came out.
“Yes,” I stammered to the beat of my unsteady heart.
He gently placed my hand on the table. “How would you like discussing cash flow over ice cream? I know a great place not too far from here.”
“Sounds riveting—at least the ice cream part.”
Kane laughed loudly out into the warm evening air. “I like you, Scarlett.”
I like you too, Kane. Probably a little too much.
Personal Mission Statement
I tapped my pen against a blank notepad as I reclined under the shade of a maple tree in the courtyard. Despite being protected by the shade, the heat and humidity of Georgia on the first day of June were a force to be reckoned with. I hoped, though, that the scenery would help clear my mind. I needed to write a personal statement for my medical school application. I had fifty-three hundred words available to me to impress the admission committees who held my fate in their hands. Many of my professors had drilled into me that medical schools were looking for people, not only scores. My excellent grades and MCAT score would go only so far.
I liked to write out my words before typing them. For some reason, I connected more to paper and pen than to a keyboard. Naomi would say I was an old soul. More like weird for my generation.
I wrote out the prompt from the American Medical College Application Service: Use the space provided to explain why you want to go to medical school.
Could they have been any more vague? I knew it was done on purpose, but sheesh, they could help a girl out. Sure, I knew why I wanted to go, but it wasn’t actually why I was going to medical school.
I stared blankly at the prompt and shifted in my indigo sundress. Naomi and I had gone shopping the night before to update my wardrobe. I’d decided I wanted to look more my age when I came into the office. And I found that certain dresses hid my stomach pooch quite nicely. You know, in case I ran into a certain someone, who I hadn’t seen yesterday. Not that I expected him to seek me out daily now. Okay, so maybe I’d hoped. But I couldn’t afford to think like that.
Focus on your essay.
I tapped some more on the notepad and stretched out my legs, which could have used some sun. I could tan nicely if I ever took the time, but it had seemed unnecessary since I had stayed away from clothes that showed large amounts of skin, almost as if I were afraid or ashamed of my body. I stared at my legs and really looked at them. My calves were actually shapely. Not like a runner’s, but womanly enough. And I had nice knees—not too knobby with only a couple of scars where I had fallen over the years. Yet they were smooth and well moisturized. My thighs were another story, but I couldn’t see them. Though I was probably too critical of them.
