Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“I think you’re going to do great things someday,” I tell her with a weak smile.
“So are you,” she insists. “Just wait and see.”
I nod and gather up my things, taking my cue to leave. We both need to get some sleep, and I need to be on my game tomorrow with time management and organization. That means extra planning tonight for what I’ll need.
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
“K.” She flops back onto her bed and nods. “Night.”
I shut the door behind me and pad down the hall to my room, trying to stay quiet. Most of the other girls are already in bed, and I don’t want to wake them. Sneaking into my room, I change into my pajamas and toss my hair up into a messy bun before flopping down onto my bed, only to be horrified when I do.
The mattress is soaking wet, and now my bedding and pajamas are too. I pull the cold wet material away from my body and groan as I hop up and stare at the mess. Looks like Louisa is up to her tricks again, and I am officially fucking over her shit. Tempted to respond in kind by walking down the hall and throwing a bucket of ice water in her face, I take three deep breaths and calm myself. That’s exactly what she wants. Girls like Louisa have everything, and she knows that if we get into a catfight, I’m the one who will get the boot.
I have to be smarter. I need to be the bigger person. If I let my emotions win, I could end up losing my place at Loyola. And right now, I just need to get some sleep. I won’t allow Louisa or anyone else to deter my focus this year. My parents are counting on me, and I can’t waste this opportunity.
Dragging the only spare blanket I have from the closet, I spread it on the floor and wad up a sweater for a makeshift pillow. It’s not going to be the best sleep I’ve ever had, but at this point, it will have to do. I lay down and close my eyes, finally starting to drift off when something taps at my window.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groan.
I get up and slide the window up, only to be greeted by Ethan’s face. “Hey, Cherrybomb. Watch out.”
“What the—” I squeal as he pushes his way inside and wiggles a bottle in my direction.
“I brought the party.”
“What are you doing here?” I demand. “You’re going to get us both in trouble.”
“It’s no big deal.” He waves off my concern and takes a seat on my bed. My soaking wet bed. His face morphs into an expression of surprise, and he jumps up and stares at the blanket on the floor. “Fucking Louisa. She did this, didn’t she?”
“I’m assuming.” I throw my hands up. “As you can see, it’s been a long day. So please just go.”
“Come on.” He twists the top off the bottle and offers it to me. “Just do one shot. It will help you relax.”
“I don’t need to relax,” I argue. “I need to sleep.”
“Fine.” He smirks. “One shot and I’ll leave.”
“I’m not bargaining with you.” I put my hands on my hips and glare at him. “I didn’t invite you, and I really don’t need Louisa coming after me if she finds out you were here.”
“Fuck Louisa.” He takes a pull from the bottle. “She doesn’t own me.”
“Well, that’s between the two of you to work out,” I tell him. “Now please just—”
“What’s going on in here?” The booming voice at my window scares the ever-loving crap out of me, and when I turn, I’m horrified to see Mr. Carter outside in what looks like running gear. His eyes bounce back and forth between Ethan and me, silent accusations lingering in the air between us.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” I say quickly. But it’s too late. Mr. Carter has already disappeared, and I know he’s headed this way.
I look at Ethan, wondering what we should do, but like the worm he is, he disappears out the window, leaving the bottle of whiskey behind as if it belongs to me.
“You’re a real piece of work,” I yell after him. “Don’t ever come to my room again.”
The door swings open, and there’s Mr. Carter, his shadow falling over me like a black cloud. “Miss LeClaire.” His eyes dart toward the open window briefly before landing back on me. The bottle of whiskey is still in front of me, and he doesn’t miss it. Things only gets worse from there. His eyes move over the blanket on the floor before they roam over me and pause briefly on my chest. It isn’t until I look down that I understand why. The flimsy white knitted tank I wear for pajamas is still damp, and my nipples are poking out from beneath it.