Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Which I ignored, naturally. And Jude entertained.
“There was nothing irrational.” I skim through the words on the page. “It’s all part of a plan.”
Preston grins, his face transforming from docile to demonic in a heartbeat. “So you wouldn’t mind if I become part of the plan and make my move?”
I lean back against the chair, and even though I appear relaxed, the chatter of the students dissipates and so do the girls’ attempts to catch our attention and flirt.
“You made a move and she shut you down, Pres. Take a hint.”
“That wasn’t a move. That was a suggestion. You haven’t even witnessed my real move.” His grin widens. “Speak of the devil.”
My attention zeroes in on Dahlia, who’s walking into class with a few books in her hand and a tote bag slung over her shoulder. It has an image of a cat wearing sunglasses, and right underneath it, a few words are written in a playful font, ‘Fluff you, you fluffin’ fluff.’
What is this? Middle school?
And yet my gaze studies her, taking her all in as if she’s a drug I’m inhaling deep into my lungs.
And I don’t even do drugs.
Dahlia is dressed in jeans, a white T-shirt, a beat-up leather jacket, and her usual white sneakers. Her hair is loose, falling to her shoulders in soft waves, framing the infuriatingly determined expression on her face.
I hate that look.
I hate that she always has it, no matter what she goes through.
It’s what makes me want to break her to pieces.
Smash her.
Ruin her so thoroughly, she’ll never be able to stand up again.
See if she’ll dare to ever look at me.
“You’re drooling,” Preston whispers, then waves. “Thorne! Over here, saved you a seat.”
The entire hall stares at her.
It’s unusual for any of the girls to get to sit with us. Isabella and her minions made sure of it. So they only approach if one of us calls them over.
Dahlia lifts her head and pauses, her forefinger tracing cryptic messages on her thumb.
Like a witch.
Wouldn’t be surprised if she’s capable of making potions of some sort.
Her eyes meet mine and she holds my gaze for one second.
Two…
Three…
On the fourth, she slides her attention to Preston and offers a rehearsed smile as she walks up.
Her steps are unhurried and confident despite the whispers and unwanted attention directed at her. She stops beside us, and instead of walking straight ahead and coming to the vacant seat by my side, she does a whole detour and goes to Preston’s side.
My index finger twitches, but I focus back on the textbook and start to read gibberish about politics.
“Hi,” she whispers, and I feel her gaze on me.
“Over here, lovely.” Preston points at himself like a gigolo. “I’m the one who saved you the seat.”
“Thanks.”
“My pleasure. Anything for a beautiful lady.”
I calmly turn the page, even though I didn’t read a single word.
Preston can’t die.
Dahlia is just a pawn.
“Listen,” he continues. “Heard Kane is giving you a hard time. Forget about him. He’s too rigid and aloof and doesn’t know how to treat women. How about you come to me? You can join me and the team next Friday after the game as my personal guest. It’s a super-exclusive party for the close circle.”
I can feel her gaze on me again.
As if she’s waiting for a sign, a word, or anything to help with her decision.
I offer nothing.
Let’s see how desperate she really is.
“Stop looking at him. He wouldn’t mind. Right, Kane?”
“I wouldn’t.” I lift my head and smile. “In fact, you should bring some of your old friends from Stanton River College. It would be so much more…interesting.”
Preston pauses and stares for a few beats. “You went to SRC?”
She nods. “Yeah. I only came to GU this year.”
“Not only did she go to SRC, but she also dated your favorite hockey player, Pres. Who was it again?” It’s my turn to grin. “Right. Osborn. You should invite him to our get-together, Dahlia.”
“I didn’t really date Marcus,” she blurts out. “We went out, like, twice and then figured we didn’t click.”
“But you kind of dated,” I say. “That’s all that matters. Right, Pres?”
Since our first game against the Wolves, Preston has despised Marcus’s guts. Probably because Marcus checks him any chance he gets and doesn’t care about being penalized. Something Preston does care about and, therefore, isn’t as aggressive in his plays.
It also happens that, other than me, Osborn is the only hockey player in the entire league who’s not ruffled by Preston’s provocations that are delivered with a smile. Something that infuriates my friend to no end.
So what does he do? He tries to exploit as many of Osborn’s weaknesses as possible just to bring him down. Doesn’t matter what the score is between the Vipers and the Wolves, Preston and Marcus always seem to have their game inside the game. And it’ll probably remain that way until Preston gets the clear upper hand.