Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“What can I say?” I whispered, finding a little too much excitement in this. “You know I love some payback.”
“That a fact?” He angled his face like he was about to kiss me, and my breath caught in my throat.
I knew this was an act, but right now, I wasn’t acting, and I wasn’t really sure he was. “What’cha gonna do, Bellamy?”
He wrapped a hand around the back of my neck. Rubbing. Caressing. Then his hold moved around my throat, sending my heart into an elated sprint. “Bringing you to your knees, baby girl.” His lips touched mine, the taste of spearmint transferring from his mouth to mine on a heated breath. “And hard.”
I bit at my bottom lip before I did something to screw this up—like kiss him. Because enemies didn’t kiss, and I needed the reminder for myself just as much as for the audience gathered in the hallway behind us.
“What is going on out here?” A teacher shouted, clapping her hands and breaking up the crowd.
Bellamy’s fingers trailed my throat as he took one, slow step back. I held his gaze right up until the teacher’s hand landed on my arm, then hauled me toward the principal’s office.
She deposited me in front of Brown’s desk, then chucked one of the bags of weed on top of his mound of paperwork. “Weed! She was selling weed. In the hallway.”
“Actually, I was gifting it,” I said. “For medicinal purposes.”
Brown’s bushy eyebrows pulled together. “Thank you, Mrs. Tate,” he dismissed her, his narrowing gaze never leaving mine. The door clicked shut.
“Stealing tests. Giving away illegal substances.” The hinges to his chair creaked as he moved forward and clasped his hands on his desk. “Let me guess, you don’t like it here at Dayton?”
“Who does?”
“I see.” He gave a curt nod before thumbing through the files on his desk. “In that case, I guess I have no choice but to give you another two-day suspension.” He scribbled something across a paper. Two days. For distributing weed! This was insane…
“Look,” I deadpanned him. “Let’s just get this over with. I’m going to get kicked out at some point. You have a school full of reprobate kids, most of who don’t want to be here. Why not just make your life easier and expel me now?”
A sly smile pulled at his lips as he tore off my suspension notice and passed it to me. “I think it would be making your life easier, Miss Morgan. I’m used to this.”
I narrowed my eyes. Why was I surrounded by men who wanted to make my life hell? “Fine.” I snatched the piece of paper from him, then stormed out of the office.
When I rounded the corner, the stench of burning rubber hit me. A group of students stood, gathered by the entrance. Faces pressed to the glass while chatter hummed between them. Shit. Shit. Shit.
The red flames were visible through the door, bright red and reaching like fingers toward the sky as a thick, black cloud of smoke engulfed my car.
“Fucking asshole,” I said, pushing through the doors. Whispers and quiet laughter crept through the crowd of students. I stopped at the end of the walkway, annoyance lancing through my chest. I’d let him set my car on fire as his form of fake retribution, and I didn’t even get expelled. This was absolute crap.
Sirens wailed on the highway seconds before police cars and firetrucks took sharp turns into the school’s lot.
I spent the next hour talking to the police. Of course, I could have just said I had no idea who did it, but this was high school. Everyone had enemies, and I figured if I—a Barrington girl in Dayton—couldn’t throw out at least one name, I figured it would look super suspicious. So, acting on behalf of karma, I mentioned that Nikki Wright hated me with a passion. As evidenced by the “Barrington Whore” written over my locker in Sharpie. I knew they wouldn’t do shit, but I hoped it would inconvenience her. And that little, petty bit of payback made this shit slightly more bearable.
After the cops had left, I stood by the smoldering, charred remains of my car, my fingers angrily stamping out a text to Bellamy. God, this was such bullshit.
Me: Done
Dickhead: Congratulations. I’ll pick you up at the Methodist church down the street
After walking a mile down the litter-strewn shoulder, I reached the Methodist church. Judging from the discarded syringes on the ground, this was where the druggies hung out. I lingered at the edge of the parking lot, watching the highway for Bellamy’s crappy car.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out, expecting it to be him telling me he was joking about being my getaway ride and to go fuck myself, but instead, it was Nora.