Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
I wouldn’t have the nerve to tell them. I would be too humiliated. That doesn’t mean I can let the opportunity to score a point pass by. “Maybe next time,” I offer with a grin I don’t feel.
It doesn’t matter if I mean it or not. It makes Carter shoot me a dirty look nobody else notices. His blue eyes look black as they burn holes into me. I don’t care. He can choke on whatever it is that’s making him act this way—probably jealousy that he’s not the center of attention, the way he so clearly has to be at all times.
“Elliana was telling us about the wedding,” Wren explains to Carter, sounding playful and giggly. “I bet you had an amazing time, with half the married women in town clawing at each other to dance with you.”
“Not half. Maybe a third.” He is so good at pretending to be better than he is, nicer than he is. It’s a costume he puts on and takes off at will.
And when everybody else is busy chatting or eating, he lets that persona slip away long enough to narrow his eyes at me. Does it really bother him so much to know one of his friends is willing to acknowledge me? Can he be that immature?
What am I saying? Of course he is.
I feel safer and more secure when everyone’s around us, which means my knees are shaking by the time everybody starts getting up and gathering their trash. “I’ll text you later,” Wren promises before leaving with Briggs, hand-in-hand. Maya gives me a little wave before she and Tucker head off, while the twins and Kellan wander over to another table to talk to a handful of girls.
Which leaves me with the one person I wanted to avoid until it’s time to go home later.
And he’s just as pissed as he seemed to be—only now, he doesn’t have to hide it since his friends are gone. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hisses, following me to the trash can where I empty my tray.
All my silence does is make things worse. He takes me by the arm and pulls me aside, crowding close to me with his back to the rest of the room. “What was that all about? Flirting with my friends? Can’t you get enough attention?”
It doesn’t matter what I do—he’s going to find a way to twist it around to fit his own narrative.
“I was just talking. That’s it.” All right, maybe I was trying to get under his skin. Clearly, I was successful. But still.
“If you want to catch their attention that much, I can make it easy for you.” Those strangely black eyes of his glitter as he looks down at me. “I’ll send them your pictures. That will earn you plenty of attention.”
I’ve never hated anyone the way I hate him now. All of the humiliation I ever went through, the misery I’ve experienced at the hands of other people—it’s nothing compared to what flows through me while I stare up at him. I can almost taste him in my mouth and can definitely remember the terror of thinking he would never let me up for air.
I would swear I can actually hear something break in me. Maybe it’s my sanity. Maybe it’s whatever little bit of self-preservation I was still holding onto. I don’t know. All I know for sure is I am sick and tired of putting up with this. When will enough be enough?
“You know what?” I shrug, and the surprise on his face is priceless. “I don’t care. Send them out. Send them to everybody you know for all I care. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“You’re full of shit,” he scoffs, looking me up and down. “All talk.”
“Whatever makes you feel better. Why don’t you send them to everybody—see if I’m bluffing or not?”
He’s wary now, like an animal testing its surroundings. One eyebrow slowly arches and his nostrils flare. “Yeah, right. Everything you’ve done so far to get me not to send them, and now you’re going to turn around and dare me to do it?”
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, so let me spell it out for you.” I’m shaking—I’m wishing I’d never opened my mouth in the first place, but I can’t stop now. Besides, it feels good to tell him off. “I’ve already been through eight different kinds of hell. Getting bullied by you, by people at this school, and before then. You know about it. So anything that happens to me after people see those photos is nothing new.”
Pausing for a second gives me the chance to watch as he tries to put this together. I guess it’s not easy coming to the understanding that you’ve been wasting your time—especially when you’ve spent your whole life thinking your shit doesn’t stink and the moon and stars hang because you want them there. “So go ahead. I’m tired of letting you do whatever you want out of fear. Be my guest. Show the pictures around.”