Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
I stop next to his car, but I face the bonfire, watching Farrow not-quite fuck the girl.
“So,” I mumble. “Pennies?”
“What?”
I draw in a deep breath. “You put the pennies on the road.”
I turn my head, looking at him. It was a signal we used—he, Kade, and me—when we were little, before we had phones. It was a way to alert the others of danger. Like to sneak in the back door to avoid our parents if we were late. To tell the others not to come in at all if we were in trouble for mischief. Hell, sometimes we even dropped a penny to signal the others to get us out of a boring conversation.
I don’t know when he did it, but he knew I’d be up there eventually.
He starts to take another drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re such a fucking liar.”
His eyes dart to me, and I look to Farrow again, then the other guys. They told me not to talk to anyone. Not sure if Hunter counts.
I wet my lips, covering my mouth with my cup. “You should’ve warned me,” I whisper.
“I warned you to go home, didn’t I?”
I shake my head. On the one hand, I’m grateful. I should’ve walked the track. I didn’t, and I know better. If I hadn’t seen the pennies, I might’ve not been able to avoid injury as skillfully as Noah.
But what if I hadn’t seen the pennies?
I guess I didn’t expect Hunter to be in Weston anyway, so I should be grateful for any kind of warning.
Still, though. He should’ve come and stopped me. I would’ve done that for him.
“You know,” I say, watching Farrow and the girl. “Farrow and his friends crashed a party at your parents’ house on Grudge Night a couple of months ago. One of them was in a mask. Only one. He handcuffed Kade and me together.”
I didn’t even question it at the time. Why was only one of them in a mask? Now it makes sense. That was just before school started. Hunter was with the Rebels by then.
“Maybe he wanted Kade to know what it was like to sleep next to someone who loved him.” He meets my gaze. “For a change.”
My eye twitches a little. Someone who loves him…
Should I tell him where I really slept that night?
I turn my attention back to the show.
“What are they doing?” I ask, changing the subject.
Farrow takes her head in his hand, their lips almost touching as he pants with her.
“Teasing each other,” Hunter explains. “Trying to come without hands or mouths. It’s just a game they play.”
The engine rumbles against her body that I see now is completely naked, making them both tremble. Their hands roam, his chest pressed against hers, but they don’t kiss and they don’t finger. Just grind, the car helping with the vibration.
Finally, she leans back a little, exposing her body for him as howls go off loud and deep through the crowd. The tremble of the car makes her breasts shake, and he holds her hips, dry-fucking her.
“Why are they doing it in front of everyone?” I ask.
“Because it’s exciting.” He answers without hesitation. “To be watched and to watch.”
“You like to watch this?”
He’s quiet, and when I look over, he’s watching me. “Something like that.”
His green eyes study me, but then he clears his throat, turning back to the crowd.
“People don’t explain themselves here, Dylan.” He chews the inside of his lip for a moment. “It’s like they don’t do things, because they feel good. They do them, because they know they’re doomed.”
As if everyone doesn’t know that. Do we?
He continues. “The storm that destroyed this town more than twenty years ago taught them that almost everything is out of our control, and time is all we really have. We have a limited supply of it, and we can’t buy more of it. Today is the best day of Farrow’s life, Dylan.”
I don’t look to Farrow, though. I stare at Hunter.
“If he wakes up tomorrow,” his voice falls to a whisper, “it’ll be the best day of his life again.”
My heart pounds in my chest, and I barely breathe. Hunter’s lips continue to move, and I think I hear what he’s telling me, but I don’t process it as I just stare at him.
I let my eyes roam over his hair. It falls in every direction, the blond looking a little darker—maybe wet—as it hangs over his temples and forehead, nearly in his eyes. Arched eyebrows, straight nose, strong lips... His cheekbones are sharper, making his face look oval, until he flexes his jaw, and then he goes from looking like a…
Like a Roman senator to a Roman soldier.
I love how he watches them. I love how he looks at the world. I remember sitting in his car, out at the lake, in the rain, talking. That’s all we needed. Us, a view, and a couple of sodas.