Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
“And Franco?” There was a slight tremor in Row’s voice. A wave of queasiness washed through me.
“He visited me at the hospital, but only to tell me he was now dating Queen Bitch and not to interfere. He said he’d ruin my life if I said one word about what had happened. That he’d kill me with his own hands if I took away everything he built, because he’d have nothing to lose. I was fourteen and scared shitless. Crushed from the rejection, injury, and betrayal. Bottling up everything, feeding my parents lies so they wouldn’t be worried—lies like I had an accident, I fell, I was actually close with my teammates.
“It turned out not only were Franco and I nothing but that he actively hated me for ‘putting everyone in a bad spot.’” I air-quoted Franco. “He ended up dropping out of college a year or so later. In and out of jail for selling drugs. You know, I thought it’d make me feel better, how bad his life turned out to be. It didn’t, though. His misery didn’t erase mine. His failure didn’t diminish the fact that he took away from me the ability to trust a man. He made me see every strange man on the street as the enemy, as the villain.”
“He’s dead now,” Row said, his voice devoid of emotion. I wasn’t surprised or moved in any way. Didn’t feel anger, joy, or relief. “A mutual friend told me a few months ago. Overdose. Shame.”
“Shame?” I raised an eyebrow.
“I’d have loved to kill him myself.”
“That’s a nice sentiment, but I would never want you to screw your life over for someone so meaningless. Queen Bitch is still around.” I stared at my feet, flinging them in the air to keep me warm. “All the other girls are here too, as far as I know.”
“I need a name.” There was something in his tone this time that indicated he would shatter the earth to dust if I ignored him. “I need to know who did this to you.”
“Allison.” My eyes met his across the swings. “Queen Bitch is Allison Murray.”
Even though I’d kept my mouth shut about that day, my dislike for her had been public knowledge. Dylan had even made a voodoo doll of her for my entertainment for one of my birthdays. We’d never used pins on it, but I’d once given it a nasty haircut.
The silence engulfed us like thick smoke, trickling into our lungs, suffocating us. I couldn’t look at him, but from the corner of my eye, I saw the shift. Row was normally pure power. Greater than life and self-assured. Now, he fished his cigarette pack from his front pocket and flipped it open with his thumb, pulling a cigarette using his teeth and lighting it up. His hand tremored in the dark. “Fuck.”
He smoked half the cigarette in complete silence, staring into nothing and trying to calm himself down. Finally, he flicked the cigarette out to the sand.
“Dot, I—”
But I interrupted him, quickly wiping my tears away. “Whatever. You know what they say. What doesn’t kill you makes you acutely emotionally damaged to the point of having dysfunctional relationships with everyone around you. Thing is, no matter how much time passes, I will always be that girl who was running away from her problems, from her bullies. I will always live with the consequences of not telling on a bunch of people who wanted to kill me. They should’ve been punished.”
“They should’ve,” he agreed, bracing his elbows on his knees, drawing closer. “But that girl who ran away? She grew up to be a strong fucking woman with zero outside help. You shouldn’t be so hard on her. She did her best.”
I wished it were that simple.
I couldn’t bear how raw and self-conscious I felt, so I changed the subject quickly. “Tell me how you got to romancing my nemesis. Spare no detail. Unless she’s a better kisser than me. I really don’t want to know that.”
He snapped his mouth shut, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “She was a mistake.”
I snorted out a laugh. “Are you saying that because of what I told you right now?”
“I’m saying this because she was like putting a Band-Aid on a decapitated fucking head. I’m saying this because…because…” He spluttered, running his fingers through his moussed hair, looking adorably, uncharacteristically boyish. His edges smoothed and his claws withdrawn. “I didn’t even touch her, okay?”
“What?” I blinked, confused.
“I. Didn’t. Even. Touch. Her,” he said, slowly now, his eyes glittering in the dark, boring into mine. “We went on a few dates, mainly in hopes you’d find out and see that I’d moved on from your ass. I don’t remember where. I don’t remember what she wore. What we talked about. I only remember how she made me feel.”