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)
“Then this isn’t just a hookup thing?” Fenn draws shapes in the dirt with his walking stick.
A set of headlights sweeps through the trees and sends my heart into my throat before its engine quickly fades into the distance. “Yeah,” I answer absently. “I guess I’m trying to get to know her or whatever.”
Fenn grunts out a sarcastic laugh. “Or whatever.”
“I like her. Obviously.”
I knew when I stood outside her window risking the headmaster confronting me with a shotgun that I had more than a passing crush on her tits. And pouring my heart out at the lake kind of reinforced the severity of my affliction. Sloane’s also the first girl I’ve ever spent any time in bed with after the dirty stuff was over. Whatever emotional attachment was necessary for cuddling never existed before her. But last night she didn’t get up to immediately put her clothes back on and I didn’t want to kick her out. I would have kept her there all night if I’d thought we could get away with it.
“You’d better like her,” Fenn warns. “In a few weeks, Duke’s planning to paint the walls with your face.”
“I can’t wait until I never have to hear his name again.”
Seriously, I’m thoroughly over Duke as a topic. Just altogether exhausted of his existence. And I suppose that’s another new and unusual symptom brought on by Sloane. Jealously isn’t something I’m too familiar with and I don’t think it’s a good look on me. I don’t much care for this concoction of rage, paranoia, and inadequacy that’s injected into my bloodstream every time she drops a mention of him into conversation. How do people live like this?
“For what it’s worth,” Fenn says, “I can see it. The two of you. It’s not the worst match.”
“Oh, good. I was hoping for your approval.”
“Yeah, okay. Eat shit, asshole.” He elbows me in the rib. “I’m just saying, she’s a cool chick. You guys make sense to me.”
I’m not sure what puts my next thought in my head. It arrives entirely unprompted. But once it’s in there, burrowing through the orchard of my thoughts like a worm, I can’t help but wonder.
“You two never…” I trail off.
Fenn stares at me with a creased brow.
“I’m going to hit you again if you make me spell it out.”
“Oh.” He rolls his eyes and goes back to playing with his stick. “Yeah, no.”
Thank fuck. I like the guy, but I’m not sure that would have stopped me from smothering him in his sleep for not mentioning something like that sooner.
Like I said, I’m still learning to cope with this new jealousy thing.
“Hey.” Fenn smacks my arm as a beam of light slices through the shadows up ahead. “That’s gotta be him.”
Sure enough, a second later Mr. Swinney comes walking out of the trees with a flashlight and keys jingling between his fingers. We have just enough time to hurry toward the side of his car before he gets the keys in the door.
His jaw drops at the sight of us. “Shaw?” he barks. “Bishop? What on earth—”
“Evening, Roger,” I interrupt, while Fenn grins broadly beside me. “Well, aren’t you far from home at this late hour.”
“What could you possibly be doing all the way out here?” Fenn adds, downright gleeful.
Our housefather’s gaze slides from me to Fenn, then back to me. Our eyes lock, and I see the exact moment he admits defeat.
His shoulders sag, lips flattening.
“Yeah,” I say, my own grin reaching the surface. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you come take a seat on our little log over there and the three of us have a little chat?”
Chapter 35
Lawson
It’s Tuesday afternoon and the thin metal handles of the filing cabinet dig into my spine like tiny rungs of a ladder. His hands push open my blazer and trace the seams of my shirt until he hooks his fingers into my belt and tugs. He’s hard against my leg and breathing feral with his tongue filling my mouth.
“You can take them off if you want,” I tell Jack.
“Stop it,” he grunts. “We can’t do this.”
“We already have.” I lick my swollen lips and look down at the evidence of his erection pushing against his navy chinos. “Might as well make it worthwhile.”
“You’re my student.”
“I’ll call you Mr. Goodwyn if it helps.”
He backs away a step. Roughly drags his hands through his hair. As if that’s helping the situation. Honestly, I don’t see the point of feigning moral uncertainty now. We’re alone. Reasonably protected within the cozy confines of his office. Once I’ve seen the outline of his cock, well, there’s no putting the toothpaste back in the tube, is there?
“This is wrong, Lawson.”
“That’s boring.” And too late in the day to have to coddle a grown man through a hookup. “Right and wrong are someone else’s idea that simple people cling to because they’re too afraid to take the most out of life. I’m not afraid.”