Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
The girl rips her hand down and Nate hits the gas. The momentum of the car jolting forward has me flying back into the seat with my breath rushing from my lungs. I hastily reach across myself and grab my seatbelt before trying my hardest to get it buckled as quickly as possible.
I grip onto anything I possibly can as I watch out the front windscreen with wide eyes. "I'm going to kill you," I shriek.
Nate hits the corner and turns the wheel with practiced ease, making the back of the car whip around so he can drift around the corner while I scream for it to end.
My throat hurts with my scream but I don’t get a chance to think about it as the next corner is coming.
I take a second to look over at Nate and take in how damn relaxed he is right now. I mean, how is that possible? The fucker is completely in the zone. He looks cool, calm, and collected. I swear, it's as though he's taking a Sunday drive to the grocery store rather than scaring the absolute shit out of me.
He shifts through the gears, knowing his car like the back of his hand, and I swear, I've never seen anything sexier. It only takes me a second to realize that he’s completely in control of his car. But that doesn’t change the fact that this is easily the most terrifying thing that has ever happened to me.
I rip my eyes off Nate and focus on the track before me. There’s a corner coming up a shit load faster than I ever thought possible. I find my hand being ripped off the ‘holy shit’ bar as I point out the windscreen. “Corner,” I scream in case the dickhead happened to miss it.
I hear his chuckle coming from beside me and have to resist launching myself at him and gouging his eyes out. That will have to wait as my life is currently in his hands.
This is not my idea of a good Friday night.
I see the other car to my right and find myself secretly wishing Nate would win. As the other car creeps closer, Nate pushes down on the gas and shoots us forward.
I clench my eyes.
I can’t watch.
I get rocked around in the seat and find my eyes tearing right back open. Having them closed makes it so much worse. After another thirty seconds of reminding myself how to breathe, the car comes to a screeching halt, ripping up the dirt track behind it and jolting me forward, making me reach out and stop my momentum on the dashboard.
As the car comes to a complete stop, I slap my hand across my chest as my heart threatens to break right through my ribcage. People come rushing towards the car from all around, but right now, all I can focus on is the rage building up within me.
Nate looks over at me, looking as proud as can be with that damn smirk still right in place. I narrow my eyes on him. “Let me out,” I say, letting him see just how damn serious I am right now.
Finally, he reaches across and flicks the button to unlock the doors and just to be a pain, my hand swipes out and steals his packet of cigarettes before I get my ass out of there. I weave through all the people trying to get a glimpse of their favorite bad boy and hoping he’s not coming after me when a whiny voice stops me. “What do you think you’re doing?” I turn to the side and find Ashley glaring at me with her hands on her hips. “He’s not interested in you. He’s mine,” she tells me.
I scoff at her bad attitude and keep on walking. I am so not in the mood to deal with her right now. “Hey,” she calls after me, but I don’t have the patience for her and keep moving.
The rage still flares through me and I find myself heading for the dirt road that leads in here. I pull my phone out and find a few missed calls from Brooke before I hit her number.
I hold the phone up to my ear and wait patiently.
“Where the hell have you been?” she questions. “I want to go to Maxen’s party.”
I ignore her comments. “Can you come pick me up?” I question.
“Um… yeah. What do you think I was doing?”
“No,” I tell her. “I’m not at home. Nate struck again.”
“Oh, no,” she says. “Where are you?”
I give her the directions and she promises to get here as soon as possible. I get myself as far away from the crowd and lights before finding a big ass rock to sit down on while I work on pulling apart every damn cigarette in the box before shoving the mess back inside and securely closing the lid.