Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 35946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
We round a corner, and suddenly, we stop short before we almost plow right into a familiar face.
“Hey, Ethan!”
Ramona Weiss, Celia’s daughter and our soon-to-be-stepsister, smiles warmly at me, pushing her dark brown hair out of her eyes. Ramona is basically the opposite of me, but I like her so far, I guess. She’s firmly in the “popular” crowd, but she’s not a bitch, as far as I can tell. She’s also smart as hell, and studios, and is really kind of a kiss-ass with teachers, but whatever. She’s probably the most likely person I know to grow up to be a corporate lawyer or a Senator or something.
“Hey Moan-er,” Jamison drawls out with a sarcastic smile. Ramona’s eyes darken, her lips pursing as she turns to my brother and gives him a sneer.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously what?”
“Moaner? Honestly?”
Jamison grins as he spreads his hands wide. “Hey, a nickname is nickname. I just don’t want to tread on tradition.”
“You called me that when we were fucking twelve.”
“And?”
“And grow up, cretin,” she hisses, scowling at him before she turns back to me and smiles. “How’s your first day, Ethan?”
“Great.”
“Good!” She shrugs. “Hey, if you’re curious about any of the clubs or teams, just let me know and I can introduce—”
“I’m… good,” I say with a light smile. “Clubs and teams aren’t really my jam.” They totally are for Ramona though. I mean she’s literally wearing her cheer outfit for some sort of rally after school. She’s also in the school band, and on the debate team.
“Oh, well, if you change your mind, I mean, the Raiders would probably kill to get you at a single practice.”
I make a face. “The football team?”
Jamison snorts next to me, but I just shrug at Ramona.
“Yeah, not exactly my scene. I don’t think I speak enough douchebag jock to fit in.”
Romana giggles. “Well, they’re really not all jock-type assholes, Really. I think you and Beckett, the new quarterback, would really get along actually.”
“Hey, what about me, Moaner?” Jamison grins, butting in and nodding his chin at her.
“What about you, ass?” She spits back.
“I dunno, I was thinking about going out for the cheer squad, think you guys have a spot for me?”
I hide my grin in my palm as Ramona shoots Jamison a withering look.
“Not in a million years. Besides, I don’t think you and your ego could fit into the uniform.”
He chuckles, nodding at her outfit. “Oh, I think I could fit into that skirt no problem.”
The three of us go dead silent as the joke falls way flat, and hits in a pretty awkward way instead. You know, because she’s about to be our stepsister. Jamison frowns, quickly moving on as Ramona’s face goes bright red.
“Alright, we gotta go. Try not to blow any jocks on the way to class, Moaner.”
“Try not to… I mean, don’t—”
“Awesome comeback, Moaner,” Jamison laughs, patting her patronizingly on the shoulder as he drags me past her.
“See you later, Ramona,” I say with a sympathetic smile as Jamison pulls me away. Ramona just glares at him with daggers in her eyes before she twirls with a huff and marches away, holding her books to her chest.
“Wow, so, that was mature.”
Jamison frowns, giving me a look.
“Oh, what.”
“The fuck was that, man? She’s actually pretty nice.”
My brother rolls his eyes. “She’s a little brat is what she is. Trust me, you didn’t grow up going to school with her.”
I shrug. “Yeah, well, maybe try being less of a dick to her. She’s gonna be family, man.”
“Step family.”
I pause, one brow cocking as I turn to him. And slowly, I start to grin. Jamison stops, glancing back at me and frowning.
“What?”
“Dude you’re totally into her.”
He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Fuck off, weirdo. She’s our sister. Fucking gross.”
“Well, stepsister, as you were so quick to point out, Mr. Splitting Hairs.”
He just glares at me.
“Ethan, you’re reading this way wrong. She’s just fun to fuck with.”
I just arch my brow higher, and he rolls his eyes and looks away.
“Don’t be weird, dude. Besides, we gonna talk about that shit on your neck?”
“What shit on my neck.”
“Those hickeys, man. You causing trouble already?” he grins.
Shit.
I can’t tell Jamison about Emily, even if we share everything. I just can’t. I could get in trouble if what happened got out, but she’d be fucked. I groan inside, my thoughts wandering back to her.
The fuck is going on with me? Yes, there’s this forbidden allure of her being someone I should stay the fuck away from. But it’s more than that. It’s that I really, really want her. It’s that she ignites something in me. It’s that I crave her. She’s not like the girls I’ve known before. I know how cliché that sounds, in this stupid Mrs. Robinson way, but it’s true.
“Alright, this is me,” I mutter, glancing into Professor Truman’s math class. The professor himself is in there, standing leaning over his desk going over some homework or something with a cute looking redhead in a cheer outfit. I watch as she puts her hand on his arm as she leans down, the touch familiar and almost intimate. And Professor math teacher doesn’t do shit to move it or move away.