Page 27 of Mr. July

I went over took it out, pressed the power button. It hummed in my hand like a powerful engine. My eyes fell on Mr. July. I slipped under the covers, propped him up next to me and dared myself to lower my hand.

The sounds from outside were hot. He was hot. I was burning up. My hand slipped. I almost came off the bed at the sensation. I didn’t want Kells to hear but then again, she was probably busy doing something similar. I experimented, found a rhythm and setting I liked. Soon, I was flying high. Under the cocky gaze of Mr. July, I came hard. It went on and on, like the pounding waves. Gasping, my back arched up. The vibrator fell out of my hand, hitting the hardwood floor with a thud before rolling. I was too out of breath with quite the afterglow to go fishing for it. I passed out hard and had the best sleep of my life.

A totally different type of moaning was the sound of morning. All of us were hungover. The power had come back on sometime late in the night. Kells made a full pot of coffee, fried bacon, and eggs. She was adamant that we needed a full stomach of hot food to soak up the alcohol.

Everyone sat around the kitchen. Colby was noticeably absent. When Hannah went to use the restroom, Soph let it slip that he called an Uber in the dead of night and split. Guess he’d rather pay the fare than face Hannah the morning after.

“I need a hot shower. I have hot tub hair.” Finishing my coffee, I winced at the mess we made of the once impeccable cottage.

After a much-needed shower, I picked up my phone to charge it. My heart pounded. There was a notification of a new email from Dr. Winnfield. It’s been weeks since I had written to her.

To: [email protected]

FROM: [email protected]

SUBJECT: RESEARCH PROGRAM

Ryan Hill,

I appreciate your candor. I needed some time to look into the situation. Please call my office at your earliest convenience.

(718) 608- 5643 ext. 302

Erin Winnfield

I tapped the number from her email. It was after nine in the morning on a Monday. I needed answers. Closure. Hope.

“Dr. Winnfield’s office.”

“Hi. This is Ryan Hill. Dr. Winnfield is expecting my call.” I was placed on a brief hold.

“Ryan Hill?”

“This is her.”

“Oh. I’m sorry I was expecting…”

“For me to be male? I get that a lot.”

After a brief pause, she continued. “I looked into the situation and I’ll admit I was overly impressed with your application. But my hands are tied. The decision was peculiar this year, but afate accompli.I’m afraid.”

“Well, I appreciate you being honest and having the decency to get back to me. And here we thought in 2021 women were finally breaking free of the good old boy’s network.”

Her voice lowered an octave. “I might have something that interests you. But I’ll need to meet you in person for an interview.”

“I’m interested. Just working for you in any capacity will be worth gold on my transcripts.”

“You’re in Brookhaven?”

“Today, I’m in the Outer Banks outside of Kill’s Head.”

“Can you be here for one o’clock?”

Kill’s Head was only ten minutes north of here. “I sure can.”

“Perfect. I look forward to meeting you in person.” Stunned, I stared at the phone in my hand. I snapped out of it a few minutes later and started rummaging through my bag. I didn’t pack anything suitable enough for an interview. But my jeans were clean and almost new, and I did pack a nice J Crew sweater. I borrowed Kell’s hair dryer. I told the girls in detail over a third and fourth cup of coffee the details of how Wade did me dirty with the Duke program. They all excitedly helped me prepare. Soph did my makeup light and professional. Jenna made me borrow her Alex and Ani bracelet for luck. Rachel dabbed my wrists with a light fruity perfume. I was so touched by everyone’s genuine heartfelt wish to help me in so many ways. It almost brought me to tears. Ciara had a portable printer in her car. She hooked it up to my laptop and we printed my application essay and my research. Hannah didn’t offer anything, but she wasn’t bitchy either.

“Sorry to cut out like this…,”

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