Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I’m sitting in front of the secretary’s desk, with a clear view of the front doors of the high school. A black SUV slows and my heart actually skips a beat. Mom’s here? She actually showed up within a reasonable amount of time?
The SUV rolls on and I catch the back bumper sticker that says the driver has a kid on the honor roll. Nope. That’s not my mother. I sigh and let my eyes close. A minute later the office door opens and closes. Someone walks in, gait slowing as they draw near me.
“Is this seat taken?”
I look up, breath catching when I see it’s her. Fuck, she’s beautiful. It’s my first thought.
Beautiful.
Not hot or sexy, but beautiful. Her eyes are kind and gentle, like eyes I could stare into for hours while talking about anything and everything. She nervously bites her lip as she waits for my reply, warm eyes widening just a bit.
They’re the kind of eyes that can fill with lust in an instant, flicking up to me as I nail her.
I want to nail her.
I want to feel her, all of her. Now. I can’t help it.
“No, it’s not,” I finally say and move my books out of the way. She sets her stuff down and gracefully perches on the chair. “I haven’t seen you in here before,” I blurt, heart lurching as she takes a seat next to me.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Maybe the better question is, what the fuck is wrong with her? Why is she making me nervous, turning me on just by sitting in the goddamn chair next to me?
“I’m not in trouble,” she says, then looks embarrassed. She’s not in trouble, but I am. Six weeks and I have that reputation already. And she knows it. She knows who I am.
Why does that excite me?
“Why are you here then?” I ask.
Her sea-green eyes run over me with a bit of familiarity that throws me off-guard. It’s not fair. She’s looking like she knows me by more than my rep. Yet I have no idea who she is. I don’t even know her name.
“I’m protesting.”
I don’t mean to laugh, but I do. She pushes her perfectly full lips into a pout. “Sorry,” I say, curbing my laughter. “You don’t look like someone who would throw a public fit.”
One of her eyebrows goes up and she pushes thick brown hair over her shoulder. “You don’t have to cause a scene to make a statement.”
“Yeah, true. What are you protesting?”
“The cats AP biology dissects,” she starts.
“Let me guess,” I interrupt, grinning, needing to say something because I had no idea advanced bio sliced up cats and the shock on my face doesn’t jive with the bad boy image I’ve decided to roll with. “You think it’s awful and want to put a stop to it?”
“Yes and no. I think it’s important to learn about the body, but I don’t think it should be a requirement. The less students who dissect cats, the less that have to die for the name of science.”
“That’s actually a really good point.”
“Thanks.” She smiles. “I hope Mrs. Jefferson thinks so too.”
“She might.” My mind races with something else to say, something intelligible that will make this girl want to keep talking to me. I should ask her name. I should tell her mine. I should say something, yet all I can do is stare at her beautiful face, unable to form a logical thought.
She.
Is.
So.
Distracting.
And I don’t know why. I don’t know why I’m reacting to her the way I am. This isn’t me. I don’t get tongue tied around chicks. I don’t worry what they think of me.
Because I don’t care.
So why do I have this weird yearning for this girl to like me? And why am I worried I’m not good enough for this stranger. This attractive stranger.
She pulls a notebook from her bag and flips through the pages. Doing my best to not be obvious, I look over her shoulder and read her notes. She’s written out what she’s going to say to Mrs. Jefferson, like a script. It’s cute, in a total OCD way.
“What side of the fence do you fall on?” I ask her. “Do you want to dissect the cat or no?”
She wrinkles her nose, distaste for cutting into a dead animal obvious. “I want to be a vet, so I should do it. Though at the same time, I’d rather wait until vet school. I don’t see how this will benefit me now.”
“Good idea. And being a vet would be cool.” I’m internally wincing. Could I be more lame?
“I think so. Half the time I like animals more than people.”
I chuckle. “I agree with you there. Animals don’t let you down.”
“Exactly!” she exclaims and turns toward me. Her hand lands on the armrest of the chair, fingers brushing my skin. It’s the most innocent gesture, one she didn’t even mean, yet leaves me craving her touch. “They don’t judge you either.”