Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 103104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Is this Chance? If it is, you can go fuck yourself sideways. And I hope you pull a groin muscle and break your penis.
Ouch. That sounds painful.
Yet…he doesn’t answer my question.
I watch the dots on my phone, my heart beating faster than it should.
I read something for my Contemporary Poetry class and it made me think of you.
I rack my brain for who’s in that particular class, one of the senior favorites. I didn’t take it because my focus is math and science. History of Film is my only elective.
Yeah? Send me the poem.
I expect him to send me a name and title, but instead a longer text comes in, the lines typed carefully.
I yearn for her,
To ease the monsters in my head.
My hard heart wants the glass heart in her.
Obviously, I am out of my mind.
It’s good, short and succinct.
Nice, SA. I happen to like poetry.
SA? He sends.
Secret admirer, duh.
“Slut,” a male voice mutters as he jostles past me in the hall and keeps moving. I don’t even try to see who it was. It’s the second time today. Pushing down the singe of pain those words cause in me, I look back down at my phone.
What am I doing texting with someone who could be an enemy?
Besides, it’s my free period and I want to check out the new auditorium upstairs. They started construction last year, and I left before it was finished. Maybe I can think there. Catch my breath. Think about my goals and hope they can sustain me. As long as I pop by to see the librarian who’s in charge of my period and tell her I have some teachers to check in with, she’ll give me a pass to roam a little.
I have to go, I type out.
What class?
Screw that. I stuff my phone back inside my blazer and book it to the library.
After getting my pass, I head to the stairwell that leads to the fourth floor where one of the inside entrances to the new auditorium is. My footsteps are soft as I take the second flight. I’m adjusting my backpack when I hear the first-floor door open and someone comes into the quiet stairwell. A guy’s voice is speaking, and I pause at the familiar cadence I hear, the slow, burly drawl.
Another voice, soft and cajoling and female, hits my ears.
I strain to hear their conversation, getting frustrated when they lower their voices. They don’t seem to be actually moving up the stairs, so I take a few steps back and hunker down next to the concrete barrier, working up the nerve to peep around it. The key to good eavesdropping is not getting caught.
Rising up slowly, I take in Liam and Jolena. With his back to me, he’s leaned down toward her small frame, and she’s taking a step back from him, crossing her arms over her chest.
Oh, drama.
Not able to hear them, I settle back on my heels and maneuver down one more flight, trying to be a ninja.
Jolena’s voice reaches me. “Brooklyn said you were flirting with that Brandy girl in your English class.”
He scoffs. “Come on, I asked her for a pen. A pen. Brooklyn is stirring up trouble.”
“Is she? What about the girl this summer? The one who kept texting you?”
His voice lowers. “I explained that already. Don’t make me repeat it.”
She lets out a frustrated noise.
“Ah, baby…” he murmurs.
She says something with intensity, her voice low and garbled.
A long pause, then, “Don’t preach to me, Jo. Knox will get over it, or if he doesn’t, I don’t care. He hit me—over her. Don’t you take his side because you screwed him once. Yeah, you think I don’t think about that every time I see him?”
She mumbles something. It sounds like I love you.
Liam tilts her chin up. “I know, baby. I love you too.”
Gag.
“He thinks he runs this place, but I’m the star around here, and we never would have won the games we did if it wasn’t for my defense.”
It rankles that I can’t see his expression, and I wish I could see his face, see his black eye.
She puts her hand on her hip, and I start when I hear my name.
His voice tightens. “Can I help it that she was all over me that night? You know how girls are with me. I always tell them no, baby. Always. You’re my number one. I left that party with Dane and we crashed at my house. I never touched her. I had my wingman with me, all night.”
Huh. She can’t get past the video, and I don’t even remember dancing with him!
My eyes shut as dark thoughts seep in. No matter how many times I tell myself it wasn’t my fault, bitterness rears up and I recall that I did dance with football players. I drank a lot of alcohol, some of it mine, some of it someone else’s. I DID. I own that.