Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
I wait. One minute, then two, and then ten.
Shoving my phone in my uniform jacket pocket, I slap the wall, gripping the edge of the sink, and squeeze my eyes shut. The cluster of emotions I don’t want to sort through swirling and merging, settling into the one I can live with, anger, because fuck him, right?!
I didn’t ask him to come back that first night, nor the second, nor the third, but he did! Despite my false act of indifference toward him, he kept pushing, kept coming, and now he thinks he can just disappear?! Just leave me on read, if he’s even fucking reading the messages at all!
After he made me crave him?
Made me trust him?
Made me fucking need him?
Huffing, I push to stand, glaring at my reflection.
Stupid, perfect hair and makeup and uniform.
Pathetic little “rich girl,” feeling bad for herself.
“Fuck you, Bastian.”
“Bastian …”
I whip around, glaring at the empty-eyed janitor I didn’t even hear come in.
“I’ve always liked that name,” she mumbles to herself as she moves toward the mirror beside me.
She’s not supposed to speak to us, it’s all a part of the punishment of working here, yet she doesn’t seem to care.
Is everyone just losing their damn minds?
“Bastian,” she repeats it, and I want to lash at her for daring to speak what only I’m allowed—was allowed—to call him. Pulling the rag from her pocket, she rubs circles into the glass in the same spot, over and over again, staring at herself in the mirror. “It’s nice, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t. I hate it,” I lie, turning for the door. “It’s a horrible fucking name.”
I walk the hell out.
Professor Johnson looks up as I turn my test in, a slight frown building along his forehead. “Done already, Miss Revenaw?” he whispers so as not to interrupt the class.
Pressing my lips together, I offer a tight smile as I nod and the suspicion on his face only grows.
Okay, so maybe I should have been more stealthy. Class started a total of fifteen minutes ago and this is a fifty-question exam.
Not my brightest idea.
I’ve had way too many of those lately.
“I am free to leave, yes?” I ask.
He hesitates for a moment, but the second he nods, his eyes falling to my absolute tank of a test, I speed walk out of there, down the long hall and slip through the men’s locker room door.
There is no training during first class, so I weave through the building with ease, but as I push through the second set of double doors leading toward the gym, the clink of weights and soft conversation reach me. I push forward, looking straight ahead as I stay close to the wall on my way to the side exit.
My pulse kicks up and I walk faster, swiftly swinging open the door, breaking into a run as soon as I’m through it.
The wind hits my face and I smile … two seconds before Hue Benson steps around the corner, hands folded together in front of him and cocks his head, bringing me to a swift halt.
Hue is somewhere in the top fifteen on my dad’s security detail and is as tall as an ox, as in not at all, but he’s fast and nimble and would definitely catch me if I tried to break past him. He says nothing, just stares, and I stare right back.
And then I look to the sky and scream like a fucking brat before adjusting my jacket, spinning on my heels and walking back into my daytime jail cell.
I need to get the hell out of here.
I need to see Bastian just for a minute.
I need to talk to him, yell at him.
I want to fucking scream at him.
My breath grows shallow and my nostrils flare.
I breathe in my nose and out my mouth and I don’t go into the Greyson lounge to wait for next period to arrive but walk right out the front door.
What do you fucking know? Sai is there, apparently now ordered to keep himself parked in the same spot for eight fucking hours.
He offers a small smile, but I stare straight ahead, climbing in the door that’s held open for me like the spoiled rich girl I am.
I close my eyes and will my lungs to open, some deeper, darker part of me hoping they don’t.
I’m fucked in the head, and I know it.
It’s all Bastian’s fault.
I’m going to get to him. I just need a little help, and I know just where to find it.
“Hell no.” Kenex frowns.
“No way.” Kylo shakes his head.
The girls laugh, grinning as they look between me and the Greco brothers.
“Oh, come on! What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Are you joking? Your dad wants to murder us on the best day.” Kenex lifts a brow.
“I’m convinced he’s waiting for a reason, not that anyone would question him if he did,” Kylo adds.