Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 124690 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 623(@200wpm)___ 499(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124690 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 623(@200wpm)___ 499(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Standing up, I walk down the bleachers, noticing that most of the girls are outside. Apparently the cheer and dance squad members are having their own meeting today as well. Moving at a slow pace, I make my way over to the bathroom. I have no idea why I’m being so silly. The guy was probably working out or he likes sweatshirts. Either way, it’s none of my business. Now that I’m almost at the bathroom, I might as well go pee. The gym bathrooms are coed for sporting events. The lights are off. Feeling around, I find the switch. And nearly trip over a body lying on the floor. I freeze. Blood is smeared all over the white tile, and a slim body is curled in a fetal position.
Shit, shit, shit! Oh my God! This poor guy is dead, and the creepy guy with the sweatshirt is a murderer!
Taking a breath, trying not to let my imagination take over, I yell, “Are you dead?” Frantically, I lean down to him and gently touch his cheek, thankful that he’s warm.
“Don’t worry. You’re okay,” I say, my voice soft. He starts to move and moan. I check his pulse; it seems normal.
Then, he opens his beautiful chocolate eyes and stares at me.
At first, I’m stunned. How have I never realized how striking this guy is? Blinking, I reach for my phone. “Don’t worry. I’m calling 911 right now.” I smile and stroke his cheek reassuringly.
He pushes up on his arms and sits up.
“Here let me help you.” I help him scoot back, so he can use the wall to help him sit up.
“Don’t call 911. Trust me, I’ll be okay.” His voice, which has a slight accent, sounds steady.
Shocked, I shake my head. “Don’t be crazy. You need medical attention. You’re bleeding… and you have a black eye.”
“Fuck, I hit my head on the sink when that dick hit me in the eye.”
God, what do I do? He’s speaking clearly, and the bleeding seems to have stopped on his head wound.
“I’m so sorry you’re stuck with me finding you.” I give him a smile.
“I don’t think I could have dreamt a better person to rescue me. Do you believe in fate, Pretty Girl?”
“Yes… I do.”
“So do I.” His pained eyes lock with mine, and it’s like looking in a mirror. His loneliness and insecurities are all right before me.
Swallowing, I say, “You’re sure you don’t need an ambulance? I’m a terrible nurse.”
He grunts. “I have been beaten way worse. I only hit my head. Anytime you hit your head it bleeds. Trust me, it looks worse than it is.”
“If you say so.” I take a shallow breath. The bathroom is clean, thank goodness, minus the blood. God, it’s all over the white floor. What do I do?
As if he can read my mind, he interrupts my manic thoughts. “Here, Pretty. Help me to my feet.”
Jumping at the chance to be useful, I let him grab hold of my hand. “Go slow and hold on to me.” Puffing out some air, he seems steady. More than steady, he is stiff and angry.
“Can you walk?”
“I’ll be fine. Give me a second.” He’s taller than me but almost as skinny. He’s the most delicate boy I’ve ever seen. I mean Reed and Jax are beautiful, but they are big, tall, and masculine-looking. This boy is just plain pretty, with his black hair and dark eyes.
He smiles, and I see straight white teeth.
“Well, at least he didn’t hit your mouth and mess up those pretty teeth.” Can’t help myself—he is that handsome.
He shrugs. “You saved me. I will be forever in your debt.”
“Stop it. I hardly saved you. I almost tripped over you. By the way, you could have a concussion.” I chew on my bottom lip.
“Don’t worry. I have a whole team that will fix me up. Do you know who I am?”
“Kind of, I mean when you came here a couple months ago, I heard the rumors.”
Nodding, he says, “Well, they are mostly true, so you can see why I don’t want a hospital. But if I can use your phone? I should probably call one of my guys before I pass out.” He rubs his wounded head.
I must be pale because the guy tells me to breathe.
“I’m kidding.” He chuckles, gently taking my phone from my numb, cold hand.
He speaks what I think is Spanish into the phone, then hands it back to me.
He stares silently at me for a moment. “I’m Brance. My people are on the way.”
“Good, that’s good. Who did this to you?” Looking toward the door, I wonder if I should lock it. “Should we call the cops? I saw the guy leave here, but I didn’t see his face.”
“Fuck no, definitely no cops. I will have one of my dad’s guys take care of him, maybe.” He snorts as though disgusted. “He begs me to suck his cock and afterward freaks out because he loved it.”