Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Whatever you have to tell yourself,” Tucker says, “but if it makes you feel better, who am I to judge? You go ahead and torment your girl however you see fit.”
“I was planning on it,” I quip. “Since we are on the subject. Your dad came by my house the other day, and I overheard him say something interesting about Wren.”
“Oh, juicy,” Tucker says, rubbing his hands together. “Please, do tell.” He looks downright ecstatic for me to spill some tea and so do the rest of my friend circle. Everyone stares at me, waiting for me to continue.
“He said that my father is the reason Wren got a full ride to attend Wicked Falls, but he didn’t say why. You wouldn’t know any more about that, would you?”
“That is, in fact, some interesting news.” Tucker leans back in his chair. “Unfortunately, I don’t know anything about that, but I can keep my ears peeled around my dad,” he offers, and I nod in appreciation.
I figured Richard is careful about what he says in front of his son, but I still hoped he might have let something slip.
“Did you ask Wren about it?” Carter asks.
“I did, and she said her mom did something to get her into school, but what the fuck could that have been? What could she possibly have on my dad?”
“That’s a fucking good question,” Tucker chimes in. “Did you ask your dad yet?”
“No,” I answer. “I typically avoid talking to him.”
“Is he drinking again?” Carter questions.
“Again?” I laugh humorlessly. “He never stopped.”
“I’m sorry, man.” Carter gives me a sympathetic look.
“Don’t worry about it.” I wave him off. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Yeah, let’s talk about the pool and how many chicks I’m going to bang in it.” Tucker changes the subject back to the party.
The guys discuss who else they are going to invite while my mind wanders back to Wren and what we did last night. Things were different between us; they felt off, but in a good way. I blame the weed. Whatever that strain is, it’s making me fucking happy. Don’t get me wrong, I like that feeling very much, but I don’t want to be happy with her. I want her hate, her fear and anger, not her happiness. I want to be her bully and torment her until she cries.
Matter of fact, I want to do that right now. I’m going to look for her. She hasn’t been coming to the cafeteria ever since I told the cashier to charge her double, but, of course, I have her class schedule and know exactly where she is going to be next.
“I’ll catch you guys later,” I tell my friends as I get up from the table. They all give me a nod, except Tucker, who gives me a small wave.
I spin around and walk out of the cafeteria and down to the building I know Wren is at. I only have to wait ten minutes before I spot her coming out of the lecture hall.
Instead of her usual avoidance strategy, she storms toward me as soon as she spots me. “You are not funny, you fucking psycho!” She points a finger at the center of my chest, her eyes full of rage, with an undertone of fear. Usually, that would have my dick stirring and excitement rising in my chest, but something is off. Because I didn’t do anything that would make her this mad, which means someone else did, and for some reason, I find that unacceptable.
“What happened?” I ask her in a serious tone that gets her attention. She pauses and looks at me as if to figure me out.
When she finally speaks again, her tone has lost about half of its anger, but is now laced with worry. “The note you left on my car. That was a little much, don’t you think?”
“I didn’t leave you a note,” I tell her honestly. “What did it say?” I already know I will not like the answer.
She gives me one more wary look before pulling a piece of paper from her jeans pocket. She hands me the folded note, and I quickly grab it from her fingers.
I unfold the off-white paper and read what’s scribbled inside.
Leave this school or fucking die, roach!
My blood boils. Who the fuck left this note?
“I didn’t leave this,” I repeat.
“If you didn’t, then who did and, even more important, how serious is this person?” Wren questions, and all that’s left in her voice is fear. She starts pacing around me, chewing on her fingernails.
“It’s just a prank. Someone is messing with your head,” I try to calm her down. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“Don’t be dramatic? I got a death threat! I think that justifies some drama.” She waves her arm around.
“It’s just a stupid note. No one is actually going to touch you,” I assure her.