Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
I cap the marker again and turn around.
“You can use your laptops for this,” I tell them.
They sit there, hesitant, but the discussion is over. I need time to think, and they need to be quiet.
“AK?” I ask her. “Music?”
She smiles, hopping off the windowsill and turning up the volume before settling into the reading nook with her book.
18
Callum
Looking up, I see movement through his window. Sophia is painting, and I think when she’s done, she’ll start all over just to stay in his classroom.
It really pisses me off that she likes him so much.
I did once, too. When he’s had enough, or when the real world creeps in and it stops being a hundred percent fun for him, he jumps ship. I’m not going to delude myself this time.
I stayed celibate—not sleeping with a single person in the years since him—because I wanted to stay angry. I feared falling in love with someone else at college would dull my fury, and if I came back only to act like none of it ever happened, then how could I ever trust myself to never let someone walk all over me again?
I needed to prove that everyone pays a price, so I did everything necessary to keep my focus sharp.
But the wheels have started to turn, and I’m over him now. I got what I wanted—I challenged myself and confirmed that my heart is harder. He doesn’t control me anymore. I grew up.
That doesn’t mean he won’t be back in my bed when I want. He still owes me.
Glancing around, I see that his car sits in the lot, but Anna-Katherine called me an hour ago to let me know their day was done. I think he doesn’t like to leave her here alone and wants to make sure I know she can leave when she’s ready.
But that unbidden voice creeps into my head, telling me that maybe he doesn’t mind running into me. That he’s welcoming me to come and fetch her, and I can look into those eyes of his.
Excitement lingers inside me as I’m sure it always will. No matter how much of an asshole he is. No matter how many times I already replayed in my head the hours in bed with him Friday night.
I have to hand it to him. His enthusiasm is a good act. I almost believed he enjoyed it. I wish I hadn’t. He’s arrogant enough to think fucking me good will make me more agreeable. It won’t.
I’m just glad he didn’t press about Sophia. It seemed like he saw her anxiety attack. I don’t know if he saw me singing to her, but I can’t let him find a way to use her against me.
A few remaining students drift to their cars, and I walk around the courtyard, lockers slamming shut.
“Why are you dressed like it’s winter?” a small voice teases.
Dipping my gaze, I notice Savanna Winslow with her arms wrapped around her laptop and a book. Her purse hangs off her shoulder. Her long auburn hair is a blanket of loose waves, and freckles cover her face beautifully. I’ve known her all her life.
“The black matches my mood,” I say.
“Not that it doesn’t look great,” she explains, “but show off your arms, my man.”
I chuckle. Yes, short sleeves are in order. And shorts.
But I dressed down today, working from home, and everything I have for summer is blue or white. Black and long sleeves are more intimidating. To my father if he shows up. To Dallas. To my friends.
I need to go shopping. The black track pants, polo, and quarter zip fit, but I’m fucking roasting.
“How’s your sister?” I ask.
I don’t really care. I haven’t talked to Austyn since we graduated, but it’s how Savanna remembers me. The guy who dated her sister for two seconds.
“She’s getting married,” she sighs.
“Give her my congratulations.”
A silence falls as she walks beside me. I’m going to the school’s tower, where the administrative offices are. She can’t follow me in.
When I glance down again, she’s twisting her lips to the side. “They’ll be living here in the winters.”
Her vibe gives me pause. “Do you like him?”
“Not as much as I would’ve liked you marrying her,” she tells me.
“It wasn’t that serious.”
Austyn was one of many girls I flirted with back when I was trying to prove that I liked females. We made out. I fingered her. It took another couple of years, though, before I faced the fact that I’d marry for children and the Christmas card pictures, but I’d be finding pleasure in the beds of discreet men instead.
She matches my steps, but her eyes stare at the floor.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Peering up at me, she inquires, “Do you think I look like her?”
Like Austyn?
“Too bad I won’t be eighteen for another thirty months,” she goes on. “If I could tell people I was dating you, it would give me some space.”