Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Then we can deal with the pack punishment Asher will face.
I have far less leverage there.
“I don’t know if I would say without a scratch.” Andy dabs a spot of blood on his cheek. He’s clearly still stunned and disoriented from the attack.
“No, really. You are the luckiest person alive. A stuntman couldn’t have done a more beautiful job. You did a full twist in the air and then tucked and rolled. Hang on–I’m coming out there.”
Principal Olsen and three other teachers are already jogging out the doors toward him.
I have to beat them there. I grab a paint rag and spread it over the busted glass in the windowsill, then vault out like I, too, am a stunt double.
It occurs to me that a wolf shifter could make a decent living as a stunt double if they wanted.
“Wow, did you guys see that?” I call out, my face bright with excitement. “My friend, Andy, just went through that window without a scratch. It was epic!”
The principal and teachers are all wolf shifters. They understand the necessity of keeping human-wolf relations at peace. They’re quick to follow my lead. I watch as their expressions of urgency and concern blink away. They slow their approach.
“What happened?” Principal Olsen asks, shoving his hands in his pockets for a more casual look.
I join Andy in brushing glass off his clothing. It’s everywhere–tiny pieces in every wrinkle of fabric. “Well, one of my students walked in on Andy not taking no for an answer, and he picked him up and somehow–I have no idea how–sent Andy through the window. But it’s okay. Andy’s fine, thank God.”
“Thank God,” Mrs. Miller, the Chemistry teacher, echoes.
“You weren’t taking no for an answer?” Principal Olsen uses the sternness of Alpha Command in his voice. While Andy won’t have the extreme biological response to it that shifters do, he should feel cowed by it.
Andy’s face, already ruddy from the altercation, goes an even deeper red. There’s nothing like shame when it comes to a spoiled rich artist who cares far too much about being admired by others. “Well, I–”
“It’s all right,” I interrupt. I have the conversation going exactly the way I want it. I get to be the magnanimous one now, instead of Andy. I’m the offended party, but I prevent Andy from going on the defensive by propping up his ego with my warmth. “I’m just relieved no one was hurt.” I meet his gaze and shake my head. “Seriously, you were amazing. And so lucky. You should definitely buy a lottery ticket today.”
“Wow, that’s crazy,” Mrs. Miller echoes. Thank fate she’s quick on the uptake. “So lucky. Are you into martial arts?”
Andy preens a little. “No. Just naturally athletic.”
Principal Olsen looks at me. “Do you want to press charges?”
Andy’s head whips around.
“No, definitely not. It was not a big deal. No harm, no foul, right, Andy?”
He blinks at me then at Principal Olsen.
I hold my breath. Please let this work.
Please, please, please let this work.
“Yeah. All good. I’m sorry.” He shakes out his designer t-shirt for any remaining pieces of glass.
“No, me, too.” I put my hand on his elbow and escort him toward the parking lot. The sooner I get him out of this town, the better.
Andy shakes his head as we walk. “How did…how did I go through the window?”
“It was just some freak accident. Seriously epic. I wish you could have seen yourself.”
“What happened to that kid?” He looks around. “I mean, where’s the student who threw me?”
“He was really embarrassed. I sent him back to the office.” I roll my eyes. “These meathead ballers don’t realize how strong they are. He didn’t mean you any harm. I obviously knew I wasn’t in any danger from you, but he walked in right at the wrong moment. And these jocks all have this damsel in distress savior complex.” I flick an imaginary piece of glass from his shoulder. “You’re totally okay, right?”
I can see his pride warring with the spoiled part of him that wants to cry victim. “Yeah,” he says finally.
My pulse is a quick beat in both my wrists. “Yeah, me too.” I’m still pretending I’m the real victim here. I bump my shoulder against his as we walk. “Not cool demanding sexual favors in return for introductions at the gallery, though.” I make my voice light like we’re best friends who had a little disagreement we’re ready to laugh over. “You’re lucky I didn’t throw you through a window.”
He doesn’t take the rebuke well. I went a little too far. He splutters, “Well, I wasn’t–”
“Kidding.” I playfully bump his shoulder again. “It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean it.” We arrive at the side of a shiny black Mustang, the one I had picked out as his rental car. “What is the deal with the gallery, though?”