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)
I glanced down at the phone in my lap. A map was on the screen with a pop up at the bottom that read: Friends. And one contact was listed. Dickhead. I stared at the screen, confused as hell because I didn’t even know what app this was, so how in the hell had Bellamy’s contact ended up in there? “What the...”
“Why are you tracking Bellamy? That’s creepy, Drew.”
“What? No.” Tracking him… “I’ve never even used this app, I don’t know how—” Then I remembered that one time when Hendrix had gotten my phone.
That motherfucker.
Suddenly, it all made sense. The slick asshole. Bellamy had been watching me. Which meant this was how he’d known I was at the Waffle Hut, known when I was walking home from Jacksons so he could dump him on my porch. Known every time I was in Jackson and Olivia’s house. Well, now his raging jealousy made sense, and I was going to kill him.
“So, he’s tracking you. Okay. That’s psychotic, Drew!” She kept fiddling with her phone. “But it’s kind of hot. I hate him, but…” She waved a hand around, and I threw the car into drive.
“Just get us out of here, Nora.”
* * *
When I finally pulled up in Nora’s driveway, my gaze drifted to Bellamy’s house. I could not believe the asshole had actually put a tracker on my phone, but really, it shouldn’t have surprised me seeing as he’d broken into my house. Twice. I rounded my car, stopping midstride when I noticed the figure sprawled on the drive. “Uh,” I closed my car door, silencing the chirp of crickets. “Is that Bellamy?”
Nora stumbled through her yard. “Probably.”
Probably? Why was he just lying there? Outside. In Dayton. Mug victim was practically stamped on his forehead.
I followed Nora up through the grass, grabbing her shoulder to keep her from veering off into the bushes. “Is he dead?”
“No. He just does that.”
“And you don’t think that’s weird?”
“Well, duh, it’s weird.” She hiccupped. “He’s weird weird weird. And bad bad bad.” She touched her hand to her lips on a giggle. “My lips are all tingly.”
“Wow. Alright, AA. Just…” I opened her front door, and she staggered into me on her way inside.
Getting her up the stairs was no easy feat. We almost stacked it about three times before we made it to her room, and the second she set foot inside, she faceplanted onto her bed.
“Are you going to throw up?” I asked.
“Nope. Throwing up is for amateurs.”
And I’d rarely seen Nora actually drink.
I tugged her shoes off, then put the wastepaper bin by the bed, just in case.
Hopefully, she wouldn’t throw up, because her mom actually gave a shit if her underage daughter went out drinking, and Nora would get in trouble.
She was already snoring by the time I snuck back downstairs and out the front door. I stood on her porch staring at Bellamy’s form, still lying on the drive like a complete weirdo. Tracker. He had put a tracker on my phone, the asshole.
I cut across the dark street. “You put a tracker on my phone!”
“Actually, I didn’t physically put shit on your phone.” The soft ember of a cigarette glowed red before dimming. Bellamy didn’t smoke...
“You’re a dick.” I continued up his drive. “There was me thinking you were stalking me, and you were literally next-level stalking me.”
“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer…”
I stopped and glared at him for a second. “Did it piss you off? Seeing me at Jackson’s house all the time?” I hoped it made him livid. Nothing less than he deserved.
“When I knocked his ass out, I pictured him fucking you all those times you were over there, so yeah. I’d say it pissed me off.”
I swear my ovary twitched a little, and the fact that it pissed him off appeased my own temper. “Karma.”
“For him...” He took a drag from the cigarette. “Yeah.”
My gaze drifted over the exposed strip of skin above his jeans. The streetlight overhead played over the deep V that disappeared beneath his beltline, and I hated that something so simple could cause my body to heat. “Why are you lying on the ground?”
“Why are you standing up?” He turned his head on the pavement, blowing out a thin stream of smoke. I took in the hard set of his jaw, the straight angle of his nose, and through the dim light, I barely noticed his red, swollen cheekbone.
He brought the cigarette back to his lips, his gaze never leaving me as I dropped to the asphalt on a sigh.
“You get in a fight?”
His gaze swung away , and he sat up, lifting a bottle to his lips. “Yep.”
“Well, you’re just indulging in all the bad things tonight.” And I knew a little about indulging in things that were inevitably bad for me.