When It's Love Read Online Free PDF Page B

wasn’t hard since I didn’t have anything else. We were inseparable in and out of school, and Jake was the one who first noticed the car that starting following me around towards the end of 12 th grade.

I wake up at 6:00 a.m. covered in sweat. I think I was having a nightmare, but I can’t remember anything from my sleeping hours, only that I had fallen asleep waiting to hear from Professor Sparling. Tiny and Little both start walking on me and purring, hoping for some attention now that I’m awake. “Cats, hang on,” I say. “Forgive me for being selfish, but first let’s see what’s in my inbox, then I’ll pet you.”
    The cats are all over my computer before it loads. Each one is peering over a corner of the screen. If I weren’t so anxious, I’d think it was really cute. These cats are used to getting early morning attention from me, so it’s no wonder they’re all over the electronic intruder in the bed.
    I know I need to be prepared for disappointment. Chances are that Professor Sparling has not written back. He was probably drunk last night when he emailed me. I bet it was all one big mistake and he has no idea how excited I was and how much it meant to me. I tell myself all of these things to try to soften the blow that will come if there’s no message from him. Still, I can’t help but feel giddy at the thought that there’s a chance of an email from him. A chance is so much more promising than no chance.
    I want to text Henry, but I know it’s too early for him. I just want someone to be there for me if there’s no email and I’m crushed. I reason with myself, though, that even if there’s no message now, I shouldn’t be too upset. Professor Sparling might answer later in the day. He might reply tomorrow. Maybe he’s one of those writers who goes out to cabin retreats in the forest and disconnects from the world while writing. It could be weeks before he replies. I realize I don’t even know if Professor Sparling is staying in town over winter vacation. I don’t really know anything about him at all. One of the things we talked about in his class is the way that good personal writing can make you feel connected to someone, despite the fact that you’ve never met. Maybe that’s what happened to me when I read his book, Indebted, which is brimming with heartfelt sentiment. It was so easy to identify with the pain he described as his wife became more and more depressed. I couldn’t help but sympathize with what he’d gone through. Maybe that’s what happened to him when he read about my past.
    I take a deep breath and hold it in while I open my inbox. “Yes!” I say as I exhale. A reply from Professor Sparling, and it’s more than one line long. He sent it at 1:24 a.m.
    Dear Sydney,
    You are probably fast asleep now, curled up in your blanket with your wispy blond hair falling over your beautiful face. Tell me what you like about me. What attracts you? Don’t be shy. I want to know everything.
    Waiting Impatiently,
    P.S.
    He wants to know everything I like about him. Holy Crap! There is nothing I don’t like about him. How do I even begin to reply to this? I’ve had a million erotic thoughts before, and they don’t frighten me, but I’ve never written anything erotic. I can’t believe this is happening, and the step from pure fantasy to actually writing feels like a gigantic leap. Putting my licentious fantasies out in cyberspace is probably a really bad idea, worse than having a naked picture of yourself floating around the web. A body is just a bunch of parts, after all, but words can reveal who you really are. A shiver runs down my spine. Whatever I put out there is out there for good. There’s no going back. There’s no way to know how many times an email is going to be forwarded, or who is going to end up reading it. Before I dive into this, I have to force myself to admit that I understand what I’m getting into. And this is not just about cyberspace. This interaction