Total pages in book: 186
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
Ash
Ur mad, aren’t you? Can we talk?
I feel like we need to.
I stared at the message, sighing hard.
Talk. Yeah. We needed to, but this was another conversation that couldn’t be had over a text. It also wasn’t a discussion to have while my mind was still wrapped in the memory of Ryder’s arms around me, and the way he called me his. I would need to take a gap year at this point for all the ‘little talks’ I was supposed to have with people. I hadn’t even gotten around to discussing the kiss that landed us all here. The one I thought about when I was alone, flushed, fingers sliding over skin that ached for the man who kissed like he’d been craving me his whole life and had finally gotten a taste.
That kiss ruined me.
Technically, it was our second, turned into four more in one go. The first time our lips met, I was younger, curious, and he was there. It was a secret tucked between laughter and dares.
I told myself it didn’t count.
The kiss at the quarry cracked open something deeper and darker inside me. That kiss rewrote every memory of us with the sharp, brutal clarity of desire and downplayed feelings that had been waiting too long to be named.
In hindsight, I had no right to be mad at Ashton about Sarah. Not when I was borderline cheating on him in my head for nearly our entire relationship. I was trying to do the right thing now, though. Last night, I told Ryder to stick with Brooke. That was a step in the right direction.
This morning, I hated myself for it.
I couldn’t stand the thought of him living as someone he wasn’t even when he went home at night. Maybe that made me a hypocrite. I felt like one. A tangled-up, self-sabotaging, emotionally constipated mess. If I got wise, I’d have my shit together by twenty-five. That gave me a few years to figure out how to be a big girl and actually use my words instead of swallowing everything like it didn’t matter. Worst case scenario, and I never figured it out, I’d live my life with stomach ulcers.
I couldn’t take the words back now.
Not the ones I already said or the ones I hadn’t. So, I was going to get my ass out of bed and attempt to have a normal day. If I didn’t focus too much on The Hunt soon underway, a relationship on life support waiting for me to pull the plug, and pretending I was fine with the guy I loved becoming someone else’s everything, that was totally manageable.
I rolled out from under my blanket, rubbing my eyes as I started pulling together clothes. The room was still dim, the sun barely stretching past the curtains, casting everything in that soft, peach-hued light that made it feel earlier than it was.
I grabbed a pair of sweats, a tank top, and my favorite oversized sweater. Fashion influencer, I was not. Roxxi and Cloe had that crown locked down. From the jewelry stand on my dresser, I picked up my necklace. The jagged best friend charm felt cool in my fingers, dangling from its new chain. It had dulled only a bit from years of wear. I clipped it back on, my thumb brushing the uneven edge where his piece fit perfectly into mine. Something so small, so simple tethered us in a way I’d never truly let go of.
I crossed the room and dragged the chair away from the doorknob where I’d wedged it last night, the legs scraping softly against the hardwood floor. Maybe it had been overkill, but after the last forty-eight hours, I didn’t care. I’d seen enough horror movies to know better, and our house wasn’t exactly Fort Knox. Second floor, sure, but easily scalable if someone was determined enough. Roxxi had texted and offered up her bed at some point, said I could crash beside her, but that would’ve meant leaving Layla behind, and I wasn’t about to be scared out of my own room.
I had the comfiest mattress known to man, a gel hybrid with cooling tech that was way too expensive to abandon unless the house was on fire. I cracked the door open and peeked into the bathroom, an instinctive chill still needling at the back of my neck. Stepping halfway in, I scanned the space. The window was still sealed with the black trash bag. The taped edges were solid with no signs of tampering. I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath, forcing the unease back down. I couldn’t be scared of my own bathroom. It was literally essential to functioning as a human being.
Washing my face and brushing my teeth helped. Throughout the process, I eyed my nails. I kept them short because of cheer. The dark gel polish was still smooth and unblemished, but they were close to needing a fill. Roxxi would be rounding all of us up to have that taken care of in the coming days, I was sure.