Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
I discreetly wiggled my fingers, remembering that my nails were still wet, and I stole glances at Axel as he moved to his iPod dock. He was wearing a tank top and sweats, and I was distracted and impressed by his muscular arms. Boys in my grade were just that—boys—but Axel's body was more like a man's. He turned the volume back up just as Billie Joe Armstrong's anger segued into something more mournful.
"When will you be able to race?"
He shrugged again. "Soon, I guess." He sat on the end of his bed as the sound of my mom shrieking wafted up through the floor. Yet another loud crash signaled the destruction of something fragile downstairs. "Shit. Your mom is psycho, Kay." His tone was more sympathetic than accusing, but his words pissed me off.
"She was never like this until she married your dad," I said, raising my voice a little.
He shrugged again and we both listened to the argument for a few moments.
"Do you think they'll get divorced?" I asked, not liking how I sounded like a little kid as I posed the question.
"I don't know. Probably."
My mom was Alexander's third wife. I remembered this as I wondered why Axel seemed like he didn't really care about the fighting. I guess he was probably used to it, but I was worried. I'd never known my real dad and had never known divorce. I was fourteen when my mom married Alexander, and though I wasn't looking for a father figure, I was glad to see her happy with him. She had seemed content until about a month ago.
Axel was seventeen now and probably ready to get out of here anyway. His dad was going to make him go to college, though I didn't think Axel wanted to do anything except race.
I had come to my stepbrother's room for company and comfort, but as we sat there in silence, I only became more worried and afraid. I couldn't express my fears to him. If I did, I'd probably cry, and I'd rather have died than cry in front of him. I fought to hold it in, and was poking at my thumbnail, its fresh polish already gouged, when Axel finally spoke.
"Hey."
I looked up to see a rare tender expression reflected in his brown eyes as he looked into mine.
"It'll be okay, Kayla. Don't worry."
CHAPTER 1
THE ASSIGNMENT
KAYLA
If the line wasn't long, I figured I'd have just enough time to grab a double latte before the Monday morning staff meeting. Being late to the meeting was unacceptable to the editor, but getting through the meeting without a strong dose of caffeine was unacceptable to me. While I was waiting to order, a text came in from Justin.
"I had a great time Saturday. Are you free for dinner tomorrow? Hope you have a good day."
I placed my order with the barista and felt a mild sense of dread come over me as I thought about the text message. Justin was perfectly nice, and I'd enjoyed the dates we'd been on, but I didn't really want to see him again. There was no point. If I didn't break it off now, it would just be harder to do it later.
While I waited for my drink, I thought about how to respond. I should have been a pro at this by now. I felt like I'd brushed off or broken things off with more than my fair share of guys, and it wasn't like most of them were that bad; they just weren't right for me. Maybe I should be wondering what was wrong with me, and why it had been so hard to find the right guy. Maybe I was too picky, but I didn't want to settle or continue to see someone who just didn't feel like "the one.”
I pushed those thoughts aside as I made my way to the office and remembered that I needed to focus on the upcoming meeting. I needed to pitch a few story ideas and wanted to be prepared to present them in the most persuasive way. I'd figure out how to respond to Justin later.
I made it to the meeting with a couple of minutes to spare and took a seat at the far end of the table. Dean strode in at exactly eight and the room quieted. He ran a tight ship.
The meeting followed its usual format. He reviewed highlights and feedback from the most recent issue, then presented new assignments. Some of the ideas were given to specific writers, and others were up for grabs.
After assigning articles on an upcoming museum event and a golf course redesign, Dean stunned me with his next topic.
"A race car driver is relocating here, Axel Beckers. He's an up-and-comer in the racing community, and a mainstay of the national gossip media. He's having a new home built here, and we'd like to do a small feature on him. I think he's NASCAR. Any takers on this one?"