Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 94457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
My hand clenches into a fist without thought. It would be so easy to swing at Ren right now, but one punch wouldn’t be enough for me. I need something deeper, and fighting with my best friend over what is right and wrong isn’t going to sedate the beast pulsing with life in my veins.
“Whatever, I’m going to the gym.” I push off the bed and grab my Nikes before brushing past him and out of the room.
I shove my feet into my shoes and walk out of the apartment, slamming the door behind me. Normally, I would walk to the gym, but I jog over, hoping to let some of the tension out.
That doesn’t seem to work, and as soon as I walk into the gym, I head for the sandbag and bang my fist against it until my knuckles ache. Then I head for the treadmill. I’ll exhaust myself before I get into a full-on fight with Ren, even if he does deserve a right hook to his nose.
I run for the next hour. The sweat pours off me, and my lungs burn, but it’s exactly what I need.
With each step I take, I consider what Ren said more and more. About how I would feel if someone did that to Scarlet.
Near the end of my run, I start to think about a way to make things better. I can’t take back what I did, not that I would if I could, but I could handle things with Matteo. I could go to him and make him delete the video, but the message that video brings is worth Ren’s backlash.
While it might make me feel a smidge guilty, that video will make others fear me. It will tell them if you mess with me, you could be next. Once I’m done running, I do some sit-ups, chin-ups, and light weightlifting.
Even after spending two and a half hours in the gym, I still feel ragey. Though the feeling has dimmed, it’s still there, simmering like a stew on the stove waiting to be served.
I leave the gym and head back toward my apartment, but after a few steps, I pause and turn around to start walking toward Aspen’s room.
It’s so fucking stupid how drawn I am to her. Not in a way that makes her anything special, but I feel this bond forming between us, a connection that is merely physical.
In this place, she is my outlet, and I am her savior, her protector of sorts, even if I’m the bully as well. Rat is still painted on her door, and I consider telling someone to fix that for her. I can use it as a tactic to get her to do something I want. I search my wallet for the key card to her room and slip it into the slot, smiling when it turns green.
I turn the handle and put my wallet back into my shorts as I walk into her room. I still can’t believe how tiny and cramped the space is. As soon as I walk inside, her head snaps up from where she is sitting on her small desk, a book with some half-naked guy on the cover in her hands, titled Pretty Little Savage.
“What are you reading?” I ask, closing the door behind me.
“I think the more important question is what the hell are you doing here? You do know this isn’t your room, right?”
I shrug. “It’s whatever I want it to be. Now, what are you reading? And why are you sitting on your desk?
“I’m reading a book, and I’m sitting on top of my desk because I don’t like turning my back to the door in case some psycho walks in unannounced.”
“I told you, I’m the only one with a key.”
“The person I’m referring to as the psycho is you.”
“You are really mouthy today. Didn’t you learn anything from your lesson the other night?”
“The only thing I learned is that you are a monster.”
“Would a monster bring you a blanket so you don’t freeze to death at night?”
She lets out a humorless laugh. “Do you think because you give me some bedding, you’re suddenly a good person? Or that it makes up for you and your friends assaulting me?”
“I never said I’m a good person… hell, maybe you are right. I am a monster. So why not embrace it?” She wants a monster? Fine, I’ll give her one.
“What do you want?” she asks, her voice slightly trembling at the end.
“I want you to take off your clothes—”
“No. Not happening.” She climbs off the desk and steps away from me.
“I can make you do it.” I stalk toward her. She takes two steps backward until she is at the wall with nowhere else to go.
“Then do it,” she taunts. “But I will never do it willingly.”