Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
My phone is still in my purse, so I fish it out and pull up my message chain with Tor. “So, about that apartment. What are you charging for rent?”
His response comes a few seconds later. “For you? I’m thinking 100 kisses a month.”
My blotchy, swollen face tugs into a smile. “Wow, that’s pretty steep. Do you have any kind of payment plan?”
“The price can be negotiated,” he texts back.
“Any idea what the bills run? I want to make sure I can cover everything before I commit, but not living here sounds pretty good right now.”
“You don’t have to worry about any bills. I’ll cover everything. I can add you as an authorized user to my credit card and get you one of your own, so you have one for expenses. I take it the talk with your mom didn’t go well?”
“No.” I don’t offer any details. “How’s your family stuff going?”
“There’s a lot to deal with, but hopefully I’ll be done shortly. If you need to get out of there, you can go to the lake house. I have a key hidden for the back door. I can tell you where to find it.”
“That’s okay. I’m gross right now, I need to take a shower.”
“You could never be gross,” he tells me.
I smile, but I really do want to get in the shower, so I don’t text him back.
___
I feel a little better when I get out of the shower.
When I wipe the fog off the mirror and peer at my own reflection, I see my cheeks are still flushed, but whether that’s from the crying or the scalding water, I’m not sure.
I don’t plan on going anywhere for the rest of the night, so I moisturize my face and braid my hair, but I don’t put on makeup or anything. I know there’s a chance Tor will invite me over once he’s done with his family stuff, but I didn’t feel like going to the lake house last night, and even though we ended up having a good time, I don’t want to go tonight, either. I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster for the past twenty-four hours—hell, longer than that, really—and I’m completely drained.
I smell dinner cooking, but I know I won’t be eating. I don’t plan to come out of my bedroom again tonight, and I’m not hungry anyway. I do wish I would have thought to grab a bottle of water when I got here. Going to grab one now would mean facing my mother, and I’m not that thirsty.
Outside, I hear a car door slam, and I sigh with dread. That means Frank is home, and I’m sure my mother has fully prepared him with her vindictive narrative of why he should be an asshole to me tonight. As soon as he comes in the house, he’ll probably check in on her and then head straight to my bedroom to scream and harass me for “being mean to her.” They always gang up on me when Mom and I fight.
Wanting to get to my bedroom before he comes in, I don’t bother drying off. I pull my sleep shirt over my head and drop the towel in the laundry basket, then I open the bathroom door, prepared to make a quick escape.
Frank usually comes in through the garage, so I’m surprised when I hear a knock on the front door. I’m relieved, too, because someone at the door should distract my mother long enough for me to get to the bedroom… unless it’s the cops here for me, I guess. That would be bad.
I keep walking toward my room, but I slow down long enough to see who’s at the door. My eyes widen in surprise when I see Tor standing there.
And he looks pissed.
My mother, of course, goes right into her phony “sweet and accommodating” mode. “Oh, hi, honey.”
Tor does not offer back his golden god of Holbrook High smile. He meets her gaze with a straight face, his eyes chips of ice. “Cassie here?”
“Yeah, of course.” She steps back a little nervously and opens the door wider to let him inside. “She just got out of the shower, so she might be a little flushed,” she adds, already making excuses.
Tor ignores her and glances over his shoulder. “This way.”
I frown, confused, and my confusion deepens tenfold—along with my mother’s—when I see half of the Holbrook High football team walk into my house carrying cardboard boxes.
Mom’s gaze darts to me uncertainly. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” I say slowly, cocking my head at Tor. “Um, what are you doing?”
“Moving you out. Your mom’s a fucking narcissist. You don’t live here anymore.” He hands me a slip of paper, and when I look at it, I see it’s an actual Change of Address form.
My mom’s face has gone completely white in the face of Tor showing up like this, but I see the flecks of simmering rage when she looks at me. “Cassie, what did you tell him?”