Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 100612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“No.” Definitely a male voice.
His legs kick.
“Do it or I’m calling the cops!” I say it louder in case he can’t hear me inside that thing. “I said, take off your head!”
“I said no.”
He moves, trying to adjust his position on the ground, but I stop him, firmly planting one of my shoes in the center of his chest, pinning him to the earth, where he belongs.
Ha!
“FREEZE, MOTHER EFFER.”
He does not freeze.
“I said freeze, mother effer! Do what you’re told and you won’t get hurt!”
Why am I talking like one of the cops I see on TV?
“You’re not the boss of me.”
I tsk. “You’re in my yard, a-hole.”
He doesn’t move, so I continue to make demands. “Take that stupid thing off your head so I can see your stupid face,” I repeat. There’s a long hesitation, so I turn up the heat. “Need I remind you about the cops?”
He still hesitates—not that I blame him. Whoever this is likely already knows he’s in deep shit. Serious trouble. I am in charge here, whoever he—
He tries to shove my foot off his chest, but I pin him harder.
Girl power!
“Jesus! Get your foot off me!” he whines like the baby bitch he is.
I do not comply, obviously.
“Take off the rhino head right now or I’m screaming for my dad.”
One second goes by. Then another.
Then ten.
Just when I think my heart cannot beat any faster, those arms reach up and push at the rhino until I see neck. Jawline. Nose.
Eyes.
Those eyes…
My heart is beating like a drum, my brain about to explode. Oh my god, holy shit, holy crap, there is no possible way. This cannot be happening.
“Well, well, well—if it isn’t the one and only Easton Westermann committing a crime in my very own backyard.”
Easton. Westermann. As I live and breathe.
In my dirt. In my yard. In the dark. Under my shoe.
Before I know what I’m about, I pull my phone from my pocket and snap a few fast photos, blinding us both with the flash.
“What the hell did you do that for?” He tries to shield his eyes but that stupid rhino head is in his way, and he knocks it back with a fur-covered paw.
I didn’t notice the paws…but I’m noticing them now, along with a pile of fur a few feet behind him that he must have dropped when he tripped over the fence.
Good lord.
“What kind of an idiot puts on half a mascot costume and then trespasses through someone else’s yard?” I hiss. “What are you doing? Are you purposely trying to get suspended before you graduate?”
Why do boys do the dumbest shit? We do not go to Parker Lane Prep; I can’t wrap my brain around the reason Easton would be dressed as their mascot. A player for our hockey team wearing our rival school’s mascot costume…a player for our hockey team…
I try to make it make sense, but the math isn’t mathing.
“Answer my question,” he demands, feebly attempting to rise from the ground. “Why are you taking my dang picture?”
I give him a nudge back into the dirt. “Um, excuse me? Answer my question first: Why are you wearing the Parker Lane mascot?”
He huffs. “Because I’m a freaking idiot, okay? As if that weren’t fucking obvious.” His voice is hesitant. “What are you going to do with those pictures?”
I shrug, sliding my cell into my back pocket. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Because it’s true.
I don’t know what possessed me to take his picture, but the damage has been done and I have the evidence. Ha!
Easton Westermann is lying in my yard, at my mercy.
My chin notches higher when he asks, “Will you at least let me up?”
I shake my head. “Not until I figure out what I’m going to do with you.”
“I don’t have all night,” he grumbles. “I’m on the clock here.”
On the clock. What a smart-ass.
“What do you mean, on the clock?”
“I have to get this to the drop zone by eight.”
“Well, I’m sorry to interrupt you. Thanks for scaring the shit out of me while I was minding my own business.” I squint down at him, trying to make his face out in the dark. “Is what you’re doing even legal?” I pause. “Wait. Is this illegal?”
It’s not.
Can’t be!
Easton Westermann would never be lying here like this if it were. On the other hand, it’s dark and he was trying to sneak through my backyard and if this weren’t a crime wouldn’t he have just gone out the front or walked through Parker Lane’s playing fields at the back of the school?
“This is the senior prank, Harper,” he finally confesses breathlessly, arms down at his sides in resignation.
“Ohh.” Duh! Now it makes sense! “This is the prank? You jumping over fences like a prize horse is the senior prank?”
“Harper, don’t be a smart-ass.”
My heart skips a beat when he uses my name.