Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
He doesn’t linger to detail what that means, but he doesn’t need to. I can see the promise of destruction in the depths of his beautiful brown eyes.
The moment ends as abruptly as it began—and at Hunter’s discretion.
He drops my gaze and turns to leave, but before he goes, he says, “See you at the party, Catnip. Wear something cute.”
Chapter Nineteen
Riley
Early the next morning, I meet Anderson for breakfast before school starts.
There’s a lot weighing on my mind today.
Hunter’s words from the library have me twisted up in knots, exactly as he intended. He was hot and cold, mean and friendly, and then after threatening me and promising to wreak havoc on Anderson as long as he remained my boyfriend, after all that ugliness… he called me Catnip.
There was no sign of the boy I knew until he decided to drop that breadcrumb.
He’s so fucking clever, I almost respect it, but I also want to smack him.
I have a lot of feelings, and they’re all twisted up. Every last one of them.
Now I have to break up with Anderson, and I’m not looking forward to it, though I’ll admit this is the thing I am least conflicted about doing today. I’m not psyched that my main reason for doing this is “because Hunter told me to,” but I know it’s more than that. I was entertaining the idea of breaking up with Anderson before Hunter got involved. If anything, Hunter being a jerk about it poked my defiant streak and made me want to stay with Anderson, even knowing I probably shouldn’t.
I can’t do that to Anderson, though. It wouldn’t be fair.
I just think maybe Anderson and I aren’t right for one another. I want a different kind of boyfriend than him, and he would probably have a better relationship with someone…
Well, with someone who didn’t lie in bed all night wondering what Hunter meant by “you’ll leave with me.”
But also just someone lighter than me. I don’t think I’m especially dark and heavy, but I am too much for Anderson.
All things considered, I just don’t think we’re a good fit. It’s nobody’s fault, we just don’t work. That’s what I’m going to tell him.
At least, that’s my plan until Anderson shows up at the restaurant already looking like he just lost his best friend.
He doesn’t even speak to me at first beyond a monotone, “Hey,” as he takes a seat in the booth across from me.
A waitress comes over before we get a chance to talk. She pours me coffee and takes Anderson’s drink order, then she says she’ll give us a minute.
Testing the waters, I wrap my hands around my coffee mug and try to catch his gaze. “Is everything okay?”
“No, not really.”
My heart thuds guiltily, but I try not to jump to conclusions. “What’s wrong?”
“My dog got hit by a car.”
Oh no.
I inhale sharply. That was the last thing I expected him to say, but my heart swells up with sympathy for him.
Anderson loves his dog. On our first date, he playfully “forewarned” me about all the dog hair in his room because Peanut slept by the foot of his bed every night.
“Is… is he going to be okay?” I ask tentatively.
Anderson shakes his head. “No. He’s gone.”
I sit back in my seat, feeling a bit like I got the wind knocked out of me. “I’m so sorry, Anderson. That’s terrible. I don’t even know what to say.”
He nods, looking up at me with a sad glint in his eyes. “Can you sit by me? Sorry, I’m feeling a little clingy today.”
Shit.
“Of course,” I murmur, grabbing my purse and scooting out of my side of the booth so I can move over to his.
So, that sets the tone for my morning.
I make a point to show up to the class I have with Hunter a little early so I can explain what happened with Anderson.
I haven’t entirely figured out how to talk to him about it in class with everyone around to potentially overhear. It would be excruciatingly embarrassing if someone heard me explaining to him why I can’t break up with my boyfriend like he told me to. Without proper context, that would sound much worse than it is.
Hell, even with proper context it sounds pretty damn bad.
However, when I get to class, he isn’t even there. I wait for him to show up while I brainstorm how best to explain my situation covertly, but he never shows up.
___
“Hey, man, what’s up?”
Valerie Johnson’s house is the last place I want to be, ever.
It seems I am the only one who feels that way, though. Hunter told me the athletes and their girlfriends would be at the party tonight after the game, but he failed to mention that a good percentage of our senior class would be as well.