Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
I miss my turn and need to cut back on a side street. It takes me past Julia’s house, and my head goes back to seeing her this morning.
Her insistence that she doesn’t need help.
What is it about her that pricks at me?
She isn’t the kind of pretty that’s flashy or takes your breath, no, her prettiness is quiet, almost regal. She has this aloof quality—until those caramel eyes capture your gaze. They positively glow with every emotion inside her. They’re hard to look away from.
She’s got freckles across her perfect nose.
Her lips are overly full, pink, and soft.
Thick black lashes—
Nope. Not my monkey, not my circus . . .
Yeah?
So why did I fork over seven grand—plus the six hundred in cash?
Whatever. I can’t think about her.
I park in the alley behind our place and see several Kappa brothers on the rooftop porch of their house in cheap lounge chairs. Looks like they’re drinking and getting sun.
Assholes.
“If it isn’t Robin Hood,” a loud voice calls out.
It’s Scott, otherwise known as Kappa Douche number two after Parker.
I’m assuming he means the freshman I took home last night. Ignoring him, I go to the door of my house, which faces the back of theirs.
As I’m fishing for my keys, Scott calls out, “Hope she gave you a freebie, Hansen. Was it good?”
This isn’t about the freshman. This is about Julia.
I saw Scott on the porch last night—or this morning—watching me talk to Julia after she bumped into my tire. Something happened between them. Was he the reason they called her a slut?
I put my keys back in my pocket, turn, and stalk toward the Kappa house. “Was what good?” I growl up at the roof.
“Don’t make me say it out loud . . .” He chuckles as he looks back at his friends, smirking.
I gesture with my hands, an angry motion. “Please. Say it.”
“That whore you talked to last night. Julia? The one you saved at the food trucks? She had to be grateful.”
It’s becoming clearer. During a test break, Reece texted me the video of me tackling the thief by the food trucks. I guess everyone on campus saw it.
My hands twitch like a live wire, aching to hit something. Anger rises in my throat with unsaid words as I stare at them for a long, hard moment.
I’m on edge. Skating on thin ice.
Maybe it’s because I bombed that test.
Maybe it’s because my dad mentioned Parker.
Maybe it’s because I’m living life in a pressure cooker.
He lazily runs a hand through his dirty-blond hair. There’s a gloating expression on his face. “Yeah, she likes to go the extra mile for her best clients, if you know what I mean. Her lips around my cock?” He pumps his pelvis. “Oh, man, she sucks like a porn star.”
An image of Julia and Scott together pops in my head and my teeth clench.
He’s pushing your buttons, I tell myself. He wants a reaction.
And God knows I want to give him one, right in the face.
Deep breaths. In. Out. Again.
Never in a million years would Julia suck him off. I know this in my gut.
Whipping around, I stalk back to the house, go inside, and slam the door.
Boone is still on the couch in his underwear. There’s a new Mountain Dew bottle on the floor and more candy bar wrappers. Another McDonald’s bag has been added to the mix, and a milkshake container has spilled over onto the coffee table.
“Boone? What the hell?” I survey the carnage.
“Sorry,” he murmurs as he leans to the side, flying a spaceship on the TV.
“Do we have a vacuum?” I ask Reece when he waltzes into the den. “Boone has some cleaning to do.”
“What am I, Martha Stewart?” Reece asks.
I grimace as I wave my hand at Boone. “The sophomore is a pig. All he does is eat and play games. We’re gonna get roaches with this kind of mess.”
Boone pops up, dropping his smirk and his controller. “Did you say . . . roaches?”
“Yeah. Big ass crawlers. Six inches long,” I tell him.
He shudders from head to toe.
I huff. “That got your attention, huh?”
He nods. “I hate those fuckers. They’ve got laser eyeballs and razor teeth, well, not real teeth like we do, but they bite. My mom put one in a jar with no food or water and it lived for three whole months. She told me if one bit me and sucked my blood, I’d turn into one. I believed her until I was like, ten. I legit have nightmares about them crawling on my junk.” He cups his groin. “You sound like my mom, bro, asking me to clean up. I miss her.”
Boone has three settings: hockey, video games, or chatterbox.
He shakes his head as he kicks the McDonald’s bag. “I guess I got a little out of control this weekend. Summer camp was great, but now I’m nervous. Taking Z’s place on the line? Man, that’s a lot.”