Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“Did I know there was a bet that night?” He holds his breath. “Yes. I did.”
“You asshole.”
“But I wasn’t a part of it. I overheard my friends talking about it—who could be the first guy at Waltham to kiss the gorgeous new girl?”
“Congratulations.”
He narrows his eyes. “I’d watched you from the second you walked in that school. I couldn’t take my fucking eyes off you. You were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, and I tried to talk to you a hundred times but chickened out.”
Right.
“Why would a girl like you talk to a guy like me?” he asks.
Is he serious right now?
He steps toward me hesitantly, as if he thinks I might bolt for the door. “Listen, Georgia, I kissed you that night because I wanted to—because I wanted to kiss you more than I’d ever kissed anyone in my life. And there was no way I was letting one of those assholes, who wouldn’t give a shit about you, make a joke out of you.”
“So you did it yourself?”
“I danced with you to warn you but couldn’t figure out how to say it. And then your shirt was soiled and I thought it was the perfect time to talk to you without everyone around. But then your shirt came off and you looked at me and …” He runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t do that to win a bet. And, as a matter of fucking fact, that whole incident is what cost me my college scholarship.”
My jaw hangs open. “What are you talking about?”
“A few months later, Shawn Tonley made a comment about you and … it devolved from there. We got into a fight and the cops got called. I got suspended and lost my scholarship.”
My eyes widen and I cover my mouth with my hand. Oh, my gosh.
“He ran his mouth because he knew I couldn’t do anything,” Ripley says. “The college I was going to had a strict behavior clause in the offer. Shawn knew that.”
“Then why didn’t you just let him talk shit?”
A softness drifts across Ripley’s face. “Because it was about you.”
I gasp a breath, my mind spinning. That’s why he got suspended? That’s why he lost his scholarship?
That’s why his father broke his nose?
Because of me?
I take him in, hoping I can find something that makes me think he’s lying to me—but there’s nothing. He’s more unguarded, more vulnerable, than I’ve ever seen him. There’s no joke, no smirk, no mischief in his eyes. No hatred.
He’s telling me the truth.
That one event caused this terrible steamroller effect that tore apart my self-confidence and derailed his future.
God.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Because I didn’t know you didn’t know. I thought you just decided I was a jerk, or a bother, and went on your way.”
“Someone told me once that I don’t have a lot of value as a person. And while I know that’s bullshit, it lingers in the back of my brain.”
Oh, Ripley.
“I don’t know what to say,” I say, stumbling over the words as I try to process the bomb that’s been dropped in my lap.
“Yeah. Me either.”
“I’m sorry. I—”
“Doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. I’ve done enough things to piss you off over the years to warrant hating me.”
I groan. “And I’ve certainly done enough over the years to warrant you hating me.” Not to mention being the reason your own father punched you in the face.
Thunder booms, rocking the cabin.
“Where does this leave us?” he asks, nibbling his bottom lip.
I know what he’s asking—how do we go forward? Do we forgive each other? Talk it out?
Does this change anything at all?
He’s right in that we have done a lot of mean things to each other over the years. We have made it difficult for the other. There’s not been an interaction that passed without us getting under each other’s skin.
But we’re also always together—in the same room, at the same parties, on the same television show …
If I had known the truth over the years, things would’ve been different for us. And if he’d realized that I didn’t know what really happened—if his father hadn’t fucked up his confidence—things would’ve been different for us, too.
Fuck you, Reid Brewer.
I’m starting to realize that my perception of Ripley has only been decided from behind very hurt and anger-filled glasses. And that anger has manifested such bitterness … and could have been avoided.
Ripley has always been a loyal friend to his friends, and an amazing brother to his siblings. Tate adores him. I’ve seen it, but my perception has been skewed.
“I’d watched you from the second you walked in that school. I couldn’t take my fucking eyes off you. You were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, and I tried to talk to you a hundred times but chickened out.”