Teaching Roman Read Free Page A

in the little back room for a pat-down twenty minutes later was because I was shaking with barely controlled laughter.
    TSA agents don’t have much of a sense of humor.
    Lillian didn’t have to worry though. The gentle butt-cupping of the security agent was likely to be the most action I'd see for the next seven days. I was not going to Puerta Vallarta to get laid. I wasn’t exactly the college party girl type. I had MCATS to study for, but Cassie promised that studying for “boring, med tests” on the beach would be more productive because of the sunlight and vitamin D.
    I didn’t bother reminding her that I was studying to be a doctor and that there was no biological proof to back that up. People were always trying to use pseudo-scientific claims to talk me into things. Once Jillian had tried to convince me that if you studied drunk and then took the test drunk, you would remember all the right answers and get to be drunk. Ask me how that worked out for her.
    Despite Cassie’s dubious claims about sunshine’s ability to help me retain information on chemical compounds or homozygous dominant genotypes, escaping to Mexico would put some much needed distance between Brett and I, especially after he'd demanded an answer before I left.
    I gave him one he didn't like.
    Plus Olympic Falls was covered in the gray, wet blanket of winter.
    So now I was here, avoiding reason number two for running off to Mexico, aka Brett, and searching the departure gate for a broken-hearted Cassie. A sweep of the waiting area turned up nothing, so I started scouting the nearby restaurants. I found her two-margaritas-down at the Mile High Club.
    “You should slow down,” I warned her, parking my carry-on within eye-sight. I sank down on the wobbly barstool next to her and braced myself against the slick bar.
    “It’s a four-hour flight,” she said, her southern drawl oozing tequila. Booze always brought out the Texan in her. “I’ll sleep like a baby.”
    “A drunk baby,” I said with a snort.
    “Imagine how peaceful that would be,” she argued.
    The bartender appeared and dropped a napkin in front of me. “Can I get you something?”
    “Two waters and the check,” I said. Beside me, Cassie pouted. Her pout was a work of art, but I’d grown immune to it after three years at Olympic State. As soon as she realized it wasn’t going to work, she switched tactics.
    “Jess, this is no way to start your vacation.”
    “I just thought we could save the alcohol poisoning for the beach.”
    “Come on,” she pleaded. “I just deleted his phone number.”
    I had to admit that was major, especially for Cassie who treated her iPhone like a modern Rolodex. “Good for you.”
    "You doing okay?" she asked. "How did it go?"
    Suddenly a drink seemed like a good idea. My decision to go to Mexico had not gone over well with Brett. He'd forced me to give him an answer, and it wasn't the one he was expecting. "We broke up."
    Cassie's mouth fell open, but she recovered immediately and threw her arms around me.
    I accepted it awkwardly. I couldn't tell Cassie why I'd broken up with him. She was too raw to hear about his marriage proposal.
    “Fuck them.” Cassie balled up her fist and held it out for me to knock with my own. Our own gesture of girl power. I had to hand it to her. She was holding together pretty well. Of course, that could also be the tequila. “I need a new screensaver,” she announced.
    She pulled out her iPhone and held it out in front of us as I leaned in for the obligatory selfie. A few seconds later she flashed the screen at me. Beside her olive skin and raven hair, I looked more pale and blonde than ever.
    “We’re going to get you some goddamn sun,” she said with a sigh.
    I wasn't the type that tanned, and Cassie knew it. “Good, I’ll look like a lobster.”
    “I’ll look like caramel,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.
    “I’m not sure how I feel about us both being edible.”
    Two waters appeared before us