Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
It’s a little hard to miss the two of them, seeing as in a place like Winchester, guys with sleeve and neck tattoos peeking out of their school uniforms isn’t exactly something you see every day in the halls. Jamison’s been here since freshman year, first as a boarding student before his dad and Ramona’s mom, Celia, got together. Ethan, Jamison’s non-identical twin, just showed up this year, and both them and their dad are now living at the enormous Weiss Manor. I’ve started calling the both of them Ramona’s “roommates” ever since, because it’s fun to tease her.
She groans the second I bring it up.
“It’s fine, I guess. I mean, my mom’s happy, and Bobby is actually great.”
I nod and she sighs.
“And I mean, Ethan’s fine. He’s mostly gone anyways, plus he moved into that old carriage house on our grounds, you know? So, he’s practically in his own house at this point. I think he mostly just works on his bike and draws. He does spend a lot of time at the art room and the studios here at school.”
“Yeah, well, Ms. Hayes is a freaking amazing artist.”
Ramona wags her brows at the mention of our new, and young, art professor.
“Yeah, that and beautiful,” she adds with a knowing look.
I snort. “What, you think that’s why Ethan’s going to art classes?”
She shrugs. “Who knows. There are always rumors like that about students and professors. I mean Kara Lowe was trying to start some shit once behind Kempton Carlisle’s back at cheer practice a few weeks ago, trying to claim she saw her making out with Professor Truman at some park in Hammington.”
I make a face. The scandal of Winchester Academy’s head cheerleader fooling around with one of its newest and most gorgeous professors would be scandal enough. But the fact that Kempton is very openly dating Beckett Truman, Professor Truman’s younger brother and star quarterback for the Winchester Raiders, is just plain smutty sounding. Not to mention, there’s no way that it’s true.
“So, you think Ethan and Ms. Hayes?” I whisper, my brows shooting up.
Ramona shrugs. “Doubt it.”
“I mean, he’s hot, in that bad boy biker way.”
She makes a face. “Eww! No, gross, he’s my brother.”
I roll my eyes. “Stepbrother, and not even that yet.”
She looks away, so I change subjects.
“How’s Jamison?”
A flush burns into her cheeks, and I’m about to tease her about it when she glances back, scowling.
“Asshole as ever.”
I make a face. “Sorry.”
Ramona sighs. “He just likes tormenting me. He did it when we were freaking kids growing up in this town, too, you know. Pulled my pigtails, slipped a frog in my lemonade at the playground. He’s just a dick.”
“Maybe he likes you?”
“Maybe gross?”
I roll, my eyes. It’s not gross. I mean Jamison Scott is freaking hot and even I can say that as a girl getting every single drop of her needs met by three gorgeous guys. I blush heatedly.
“What are you blushing about?”
I shake it away, quickly turning back to her. “Huh? Oh, no, nothing.”
“Got a thing for Jamison?”
I’m about to roll my eyes, but just before I do, I catch the curious look in her eyes. Like she’s teasing but it’s to cover for something.
“Um, no not at all my style. He’s all yours.”
“Um, brother, hello?”
“Stepbro—”
“Still gross.”
“Still hot.”
She groans, shifting in her chair as she eyes me.
“So, who is your style? Griffin?”
I roll my eyes, but just then, Professor Mendhelson clears his throat as he steps back up to the conductor stand.
“Okay, guys, get those Tchaikovskys out and let’s start from the top.”
I turn back to my own stand and open my sheet music, sitting up in my chair.
My style? Well, “my style” right now is apparently three guys, all for me. And honestly?
…I am so okay with that.
13
Carson
“That was fuckin amazing!”
I’m goddamn buzzing as I slam the sliding door shut on the van, and when I turn back to the rest of them, I know I’m not the only one. Anders has this big shit eating grin on his face and stars in his eyes as he starts the engine. Griff is still bobbing his head and air drumming with his hands, like he’s full of nervous energy he just can’t shake. And me? Well, my skin is on fire with this electric current. My body is wound up tight like a rubber band about to snap.
And shit am I hard, and I’m not sure if that’s just the adrenaline from the show we just kicked ass at, or if it’s because of Zara, sitting right in front of me. She’s sitting on the bench seat against the wall of the old conversion van, her eyes wild and this gorgeous flush to her face. It doesn’t hurt that her chest is rising and falling with her breath, her nipples rock-hard and straining against her shirt.