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)
Don’t do that. How can I help it? I have years of evidence to fall back on. Evidence that takes a lot of the wind out of my sails by the time I’m in the back seat of Wren’s car.
She knows the way to Carter’s without me needing to give directions. Good thing, because I’m completely tongue-tied after draining my social battery. I’m just not used to this. I have to wonder how they’re so good at it. The way they make it sound, they were bullied pretty hard for a long time, but they came out on the other side, looking happy, sounding hopeful about the future.
Because things like that are possible for some people. I am not some people.
“Carter’s home, I see.” I look up at Maya’s announcement. Yes, Carter’s truck is parked at the top of the driveway. Oh, shit! I didn’t tell him I would be out with the girls. I was so excited—and thrown off by that Tiana girl and her wretched friends—that I completely forgot to let him know I wouldn’t need a ride with him. Well, he eventually made it home, right?
Something tells me he’s not going to share the sentiment.
“We should do that again.” Wren turns in her seat while I get unbuckled. “Really, it’s nice getting to know you. Just remember, you have friends at school, and we have your back if you need us.”
I could cry. I guess she understands how important it is to find a little support in a new world full of new people. The way she did, according to what she told me at the diner. She and Maya relied on each other a lot. What makes me so special that they would go out of their way to help me?
“Thank you.” And I mean it, I really do, but that’s as much as I can force out before I need to go or else start blubbering all over the place. I knew I was hard up for friendship and kindness, but this is pitiful.
Would it be too much to ask for Mom not to be lurking around when I enter the house? Silly me, thinking I might get a reprieve. “Look at you!” she almost shouts as soon as I have the door closed. Was she watching from the window? “See? It’s not that difficult to make friends if you only get out of your own way.”
“How do you know they’re friends? I could have hitchhiked.” Why did I say that? Why did I bother challenging her? Probably because I can’t stand the know-it-all sound of her voice. I hate the way she tears me down whenever she gets the chance, then acts like she had anything to do with it when the littlest thing goes right.
“For once, would you try to act like a normal girl?” Her disdain might hurt if I hadn’t given up on trying to earn her approval ages ago. Why bother when I know I’ll never earn it? Oh, that does break a girl’s heart, hoping for something that will never happen. And my heart is already shattered into shards.
“You are impossible,” she tells me, rolling her eyes before going to the kitchen while I head upstairs. Carter’s bedroom door is closed—is something going my way, finally? Holding my breath, I start to tiptoe down the hall, pretty much clenching every part of my body as I silently pray to avoid him.
I forgot. My prayers don’t get answered. And if they do, the answer is usually no.
His bedroom door is closed, but he’s not in there. No, he is sitting at my desk, leaning back in my swivel chair while typing something on his phone. When I freeze in the doorway, my heart in my throat, he looks up from the device. “And there I was, thinking you were dead. Imagine my disappointment seeing you now.”
Okay, all things considered, that’s not a terrible reaction.
But of course, he’s not finished. “I know I’ve asked you this before, but now I really want to know.” He stands, kicking the chair away from him and making it crash against the desk. “What the fuck is actually wrong with you? Do you think I’m your personal chauffeur? Am I your Uber?”
“I forgot—”
“Oh, you forgot! Forgive me,” he mutters, snorting. “Once again, I have to wait around for you. Only this time, I waited close to a fucking hour in the truck.”
“An hour?”
“Because somebody didn’t bother to do the decent thing and tell me she didn’t need a fucking ride.” I swear, he would spit fire if he could. That same dangerous, fiery light burns behind his eyes, practically searing my skin as he draws closer.
“You have my number,” I remind him, knees shaking. “Why didn’t you just call me?”
My simple, totally reasonable question stops him in his tracks. His brow wrinkles—can this seriously be the first time he thought of that?