Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
I wake up in the morning to ten missed calls and three texts. Two texts are from Kane and the third is from Poppy. All the calls are him. This brings me some small amount of satisfaction. I shouldn’t play these games but… what’s wrong with making him sweat a little?
Kane: Come on, Immy. Why you being such a bitch? I’ve done worse and you’ve still fucked me after.
Kane: Screw you then.
He’s frustrated. He wants me to react which is what I’d normally do. I’m not reacting this time. Especially not now he’s blamed me by calling me a bitch.
Poppy: How y’all holding up? Kane at your door yet?
Imogen: Not yet. He still hasn’t apologized. He did call me a bitch though.
Poppy: He’ll be there with an attitude before you know it.
Imogen: I’m counting on it.
Poppy: LOL. Me too, can’t wait.
I kiss Mee-maw’s cheek on my way out and thank her for the lunch she has made for me. She’s been really chilled out lately which is nice. We’ve been getting on a lot better than we usually do and she seems to have made a few new friends. One is a born again Christian and by God does he go on about his love for Jesus Christ.
He’s a member of some kind of Jesus fan club called the Righteous Voices and he comes to visit Mee-maw every Tuesday and Thursday without fail. He seems to keep her calm and grounded. She’s been less shrill and bitter since he intervened and for that I’m grateful.
Mee-maw needs more genuine people in her life. All her friends are so fake and fair-weather. But then, Mee-maw is no different. She’d drop you for the slightest indiscretion.
“Have a good day, sweet pea,” she utters, using my nickname from when I was a little girl.
“Thanks, Mee-maw. You too!”
I race down the driveway to the road, hitching my bag up my shoulder and smiling when I see Marshall’s car pull up at the end. My hair, which I got Mee-maw to trim last night, bounces behind me, tickling the skin of my back. My t-shirt has a deep V at the back and is tight all around really showing off my cleavage. I want to really make Kane suffer today while I blank him.
I don’t want to break up with him, but he needs to know I will if he keeps treating me like he has.
The thought is painful, in fact thinking of him moving on with anybody else enrages me, but I can handle pain. I can’t handle this anger I feel at him treating me like that.
I dive into the passenger seat, grin at him, tweak the radio and listen as he talks shit about his coach. Marshall has buffed out these past few months. He’s grown a couple of inches too. I stare at his profile, smiling gently as he rages about school and how unfair his teammates are being. I wonder if I’m the only person he vents to.
He’s so damn popular and has plenty of people around him, but how many of them know the real him like I do?
“What?” Marshall asks, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.
“You’re my best friend, Marshall Jones and outside of Kane, the handsomest boy I ever met.”
His cheeks pink and his hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Now I know you want somethin’ since you’re sweet talkin’ me.”
Laughing, I rest my head back and keep on smiling. “Nope. Just wanted you to know that I love you and I’m sorry my boyfriend is such a dick to you. He’s missin’ out.”
“You reckon?”
“Absolutely.”
He places his hand on my thigh and squeezes for a brief moment before letting me go. “You’re my best friend too, Imogen Hardy. Who’d have thought we’d be here where we’re at now?”
“Right? I was just thinking the same thing.”
“But I promise you, my future partner treats you the way your boyfriend treats me, they ain’t nobody I wanna be with.”
I roll my eyes. “Low key insulting my king. You know that’s against the rules.”
He chuckles and puts his foot down. “How long until you speak to him again?”
“Duh, when he says sorry.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
I blanche because I hadn’t thought that far ahead.
“Immy?” Marshall prompts.
“He will.”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
I lift a shoulder. “He will.”
“And if he doesn’t.”
“Then me and him have got nothing more to talk about.”
Pain lances through my chest so powerful I press my hand against my heart to make sure it’s still beating. It is, though barely. Would it ever beat again if I left him?
“You love him.”
“I do,” I confirm, scowling now. “That bastard trapped me.”
“Not sure you can blame this one on him, Imogen. Way I see it is he’s tried hella hard to make you hate him since you were little.”
Smiling again, I acknowledge that he has a point by sticking my wet finger in his ear.