One Year (New & Lengthened Edition) Read Online Free

Tristan was not my soul mate. He was just my boyfriend. Someone who had broken my heart. And now, I don’t know if I believe in the whole idea of soul mate.
    And for all the reasons that I hate him, that’s the thing that makes me hate him most.
    “Hey, hey,” I hear someone saying far in the distance. “Hey, excuse me.”
    I turn away from the living room window and come face-to-face with tall, blonde, blue-eyed hottie.
    “Are you my new roommate?” he asks. His eyes twinkle in the sunlight that streams in. I nod. He gives me a warm hug. Introduces himself as Dylan Waterhouse.
    Dylan is from Connecticut. I’ve never been to Connecticut. Immediately, I think of the Gilmore Girls and an old romantic comedy with Julia Roberts called Mystic Pizza . I imagine Dylan growing up in one of those picturesque coastal towns where leaves turn gorgeous colors of red and gold every fall.
    “No.” Dylan laughs when I tell him. “I grew up in Greenwich. It’s a bit different. No fishing for me. We spent our summers in the Hamptons and my dad has an apartment on Central Park.
    “So, where are you from, gorgeous?” he asks, tilting his chin toward me. His arms hang loosely on his sides, but I can still see that he’s ripped. For a second, I don’t get it. And then, it hits me.
    “Are you flirting with me?”
    “Yeah, maybe. Why?”
    I roll my eyes. I pretend that I’m annoyed, but too effectively. I hate to admit it, but I like the attention. Dylan is very cute. And rich, apparently.
    “Because we’re roommates, remember?” I say, pushing him aside slightly. My hand lands on his chest. His pecks are hard and warm. I linger there a little too long.
    “Hey! You’re back!” Juliet walks out of our room. “Oh, and you met Dylan!”
    I nod. There’s a knock at the door and a man who’s old enough to be Dylan’s father walks in, laden down with expensive looking suitcases. He’s got jet-black hair and serious eyes. He’s clearly out of breath.
    “Oh, you must be Dylan’s father. Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” I say when the man puts down his bags. Dylan doesn’t make a move to help him. I wait for his dad to reprimand him, but he doesn’t.
    “Oh, no, miss, I’m not Dylan’s father,” he says.
    “You can just put the bags in there.” Dylan points to his room.
    “He’s not your dad?” I whisper.
    Dylan flashes a crooked smile. “No, he’s the chauffeur.”
    “You’re chauffeur dropped you off? Shit, and I thought my parents were uninvolved,” Juliet pipes in.
    She proceeds to go on a rant about how ridiculous her parents are for not even coming to the school. She’s from Staten Island and apparently taking a ferry over and then a cab all the way up to 116 th Street is too much trouble.
    “What’s the problem?” Juliet mimics her mom, giving her a raspy smoker’s voice. “You don’t think we’ve been to Upper West Side before?”
    “Eh, your parents at least have the ferry as an excuse. My parents are separated and my dad’s been living in his Park Avenue apartment. Still didn’t bother to come by. But he did act like him lending me his chauffeur was a big deal this morning.”
    What I quickly learn is that in New York, there’s a big difference between old and new money. Juliet’s dad owns a chain of laundromats and a few apartment buildings. Her dad went to CUNY for a semester, but dropped out to start his business. Her mom is her dad’s fourth wife, and way younger than him. Dylan’s parents met at Princeton. He’s rebelling by not going to Princeton. His dad runs some sort of pharmaceutical contract company and he’s also a practicing attorney. Graduated from Yale Law School.
    I have no idea why both Juliet and Dylan give me a breakdown of their parents’ education and background immediately upon meeting me. Is this an East Coast thing? Probably, I decide. Back in LA, people are different. Education matters less than people you know.
    “So what do you think you’re going to major