Free Unethical by Jennifer Blackwood

a full-out sprint.
    My arms brushed my sides as I accelerated my pace. I passed a guy two lanes to my right who had sweat soaking the back of his gray T-shirt. My feet made contact with the ground on each beat of the song. All I focused on was my stride and breathing, nothing else. Nothing could hurt me when it was just my music and a place to run. I needed to escape.
    He’s not over his ex. Maybe he’s not over me.
    No. We were over. Period. End of story.

Chapter Eight
    Blake
    Not too many things made me see red. Actually, I could only think of two: Andrew’s hands all over Payton, and my Aunt Lily. An email from my aunt sat in my inbox like a steaming plate of pretentiousness with a side of bitchiness.
    I decided to open the email now. Like hands being duct-taped to a forty during a drunken night of Edward Fortyhands, it was better to get it over with all at once and rip it off. Unfortunately, the annoying, stinging pain didn’t go away in regards to my aunt. She was more like an irritating gnat that dive-bombed my head every five minutes.
    Dearest Blake,
    I hope the $100 I sent you last month was enough to cover the cost of food. I am wiring another $100 tomorrow. If you want to earn some more money, you could always come help re-floor my apartment. Well, I am off to take Frederick to the groomer. Chuck and I are traveling to Vail for Thanksgiving, so please find somewhere else to spend your holiday.
    Aunt Lily
    I equated Aunt Lily emails to that of having a one-sided conversation with an ADD kid. Completely beyond me how she had her master’s and worked as an accountant.
    The amount of fucked-up things with this email piled higher than my overflowing garbage can full of takeout cartons and coffee cups. With Lily being the executor of Mom’s estate, she had held the insurance money over my head for almost five years. I wouldn’t get the money until I turned twenty-five, so when it came to college, I depended on last minute scholarships and my aunt’s money. And she always looked for ways to make my life hell now with her money invested in my future.
    A hundred bucks? A laughable amount in terms of food. If it weren’t for the frat, I’d be one scrawny-ass dude living off Ramen noodles.
    My mouse hovered over the reply button. Did I really need to respond to her? If I wanted any extra cash, yes.
    I clicked reply and started typing.
    Dearest Aunt Lily,
    You’re far too kind. It breaks my heart to say that I will not be able to help re-floor your apartment. I will be wallowing in self-pity due to the fact I cannot be at your service. I need to study for midterms, but I will be able to help out with small projects around the house when I come home for winter break. Have a GREAT holiday.
    Blake
    Barf.
    Aunt Lily didn’t speak fluent sarcasm; it was something that flew over her head whenever I’d made snide remarks in the past. If she had noticed, she’d never let on.
    My phone beeped, taking me out of my Aunt Lily-induced stupor. My heart sped up as I grabbed the phone and turned on the screen. Jules. I didn’t know who to expect, but definitely not her, not after the most awkward breakup in the course of my pathetic dating history. My pulse stalled to a lazy thump as I read her message.
    J: Where are you? Class is almost starting.
    The clock in the corner of my computer screen read 8:53.
    Shit.
    At least it only took five minutes to walk from the A Sig house to class. I pulled my fraternity letters hoodie over my head and rushed out the side entrance.
    Jules smiled and brushed her hand across my arm as I eased into my seat. She had, for the most part, backed off since our crash-and-burn date at the drive-in, but she still liked to touch my arm. A lot.
    “Thanks for the text. You saved my ass.”
    She squeezed my hand. “No prob.”
    My notebook and pen sat ready on the fold-out desk with two minutes to spare. I ignored Jules’s hand still stroking my arm and risked a glance at Payton. I immediately regretted