Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“I know.” I bite my lip. “The one time I got caught meeting up with a Sandover guy, Dad expelled him on the spot. With Duke I had to tell him up front and ask for his permission.”
RJ mulls that over. “What are the chances he’ll give me permission to date you?”
“Before Casey’s accident? Maybe decent odds. Now? Slim to none.” I let out a breath. “Maybe there’s something I can say. Get to my dad first and smooth it over. I’ll tell him I came to see Silas and we just happened to run into each other in the hall.”
“He’s not going to buy that. Trust me. I’m the first guy he’s looking at.”
“You forget there’s at least one of my exes up there. You’re not the only delinquent in the building.”
“Skipping over that,” he says, because he’s had about all he can stand of Duke lately. “No, we have to make sure Roger doesn’t talk. That means figuring out what he’s getting up to every Sunday night. Figure that out, and we have some leverage.”
Beyond RJ’s shoulder, I spot Mr. Swinney standing in the window, watching us while he sips his tea.
I release a breath and give a somber nod. “Well, Dad’s off campus tomorrow. So whatever you’re going to do, you have until Monday morning.”
Chapter 34
RJ
I watched about three minutes of a boxing match online before I got bored. Because, really, if you’re going to call yourself something like Satan’s Doberman, I expect more than aggressively sweaty hugging. Now I regret bailing so quickly on my research. I feel ridiculous dancing around this mat in the gym on Sunday morning with Lawson behind me shouting “stick and move” while Fenn tries coaching me through where to put my feet and how to close my angles. Whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.
“You don’t want to let Duke close you down. Keep your guard up and try to maintain the reach advantage.”
“I don’t watch that MMA bullshit. Just speak to me like a normal person.”
Lawson sighs in frustration. “How hard is it to hit somebody? You two are killing me.”
Silas stands off the mat with a bottle of water and creeping doubt. “Don’t listen to him. You can’t go in there wildly swinging against Duke. He’ll take your head clean off and you’ll never land a punch.”
“Look,” Fenn tells me, bouncing on his toes with his taped hands raised. “You do like this. Arms up. You want to use your forearms to block shots. But also need to take away his target, so you want to circle away. Don’t stand still in front of him or—”
“He’ll remove my face. Yeah, I heard that part. I have been in a fight before.”
“And look how that turned out,” Lawson laughs.
My last encounter with Duke notwithstanding, I do at least understand that trying not to get punched in the face is the primary directive.
“Come on.” Fenn waves his hand to gesture me forward, bouncing side to side. “Come at me.” He wears a cocky smirk as he swipes his thumb over his nose like something he saw in a movie once. “I’ll give you the first one free.”
“Fine. But I’ll feel kinda shitty if I break your nose.”
“If you can find anything but air.”
I jab him right in the nose. He stumbles backwards a few steps, grabbing his face. “Motherfucker.”
“Careful what you wish for.” Lawson at least is thoroughly enjoying himself.
“I’m good.” Fenn holds a couple bloody fingers out. But nothing appears broken. “All good.”
“You sure?” Silas tosses him a towel to clean himself up.
“Yep. I think your jab looks good. No notes there.”
Silas grabs his backpack, chuckling to himself. “I have to get out of here anyway. Driving to Ballard to see Amy. Try not to kill each other.”
“I’m out, too,” Lawson says. “I need to fuck.”
I can’t help but snort. “It’s barely eleven.”
“So?” He wanders over to pat me on the arm. “You know what, it’s okay. When I get back, I’ll give you the birds and the bees talk so you’re able to understand that human beings can fuck at all hours of the day.”
That makes Silas hoot. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this amused.
“You deserved that,” Fenn tells me as we watch the other two saunter off. “Questioning a man’s sex schedule. You’re better than that, Remington.”
“Eat me, Fennelly.”
We call it a day after that. Fenn and I get cleaned up in the locker room and change clothes. He shoves a hunk of tissues up his nose to plug the bleeding, which has been reduced to a trickle.
“Sorry about that,” I say, genuinely regretful. I hadn’t meant to hit him that hard. Just wanted to shut him up for a second.
“Nah, it was good form. No worries.”
“You took it well.”
He shoves his middle finger at me.