Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Sure enough, just after the bell rings, a certain funky-haired newbie comes waltzing in, stealing the damn show. I’m irritated she’s already in two of my classes and seems to draw the attention of every damn boy in both of them. She glances my way and smirks before sauntering past everyone to sit down right in front of my desk. I begin to call roll, but then get distracted when she lifts her bare toned arms and starts smoothing her silky hair into a ponytail. Then, she twists the dark locks to make a bun before stabbing it with a pencil to hold it in place.
“River,” I say in a husky tone.
She looks over her shoulder and smiles. “Here.”
I tear my gaze from her to look at the roster. I hadn’t meant to say her name, it just slipped out. With a sigh, I call out the rest of the names without problem. I’m not sure why she’s so eye-catching but I can’t stop looking at her. She’s intriguing. The other students here are mostly preppy. River stands out like a sore thumb.
I quickly pass out some pre-tests to gauge what the class remembers from last year and instruct them to take the entire hour to finish. When I drop back into my seat, I find myself staring at her again. I tell myself it’s because she’s sitting right in front of me.
She’s so little.
The girls at this school remind me of thoroughbred horses. Smooth, refined, groomed to marry the successful men these boys will no doubt turn out to be. Everyone around here comes from money. Well, everyone except for me. I’m a transplant. I actually went to school on the other side of town. My mom still lives in a trailer over there. She’s on disability and I try to help out when I can.
River is less like them and more like me. We sort of stand out. A couple of wild ones amidst a sea of normalcy.
Her black hair wiggles loose from her bun as she furiously scribbles shit down on her paper. Before the pencil falls from her hair, she twists it back up and stabs it again. A tendril of pink slips out. I’m fixated on her. My phone buzzes
Mom: Come for supper Sunday, sweetie. I’ll put a roast in the crock pot.
I smile, still looking down at my phone, but feel it drain away when a small hand with black painted fingernails slaps a paper on my desk. She wears a smug smirk that gets under my skin. There’s no way she finished the entire test in fifteen minutes. Before she walks away, I stop her.
“Wait.”
She frowns and crosses her arms. It makes her perky tits seem larger. I drag my gaze away and quickly scan the test so I don’t get caught gawking at a teenager’s breasts. Every single answer is correct except for one.
I toss her a skeptical look. “Did you cheat?”
Her pouty lips part and she seems genuinely hurt for a moment. Then, she hisses. Cute like a kitten. Not fierce as fuck like I’m sure she wishes. “No, I didn’t cheat.”
“This one is wrong,” I grumble, and point to one of her answers.
“No it’s not,” she scoffs. Then, she bends over to read the answer. Her tank top hangs down, rewarding me with a perfect view of her bare tits. I’m so stunned that I can see them, I let out a hiss of air. She’s still frowning over the answer that she doesn’t notice she gave her coach a fucking hard-on. A good man would peel his stare from those little tits and show some responsibility. Apparently I’m not a good man.
What do they taste like?
Would she squeal if I bit one of them?
They’re the cutest fucking tits I’ve ever seen. She doesn’t seem like a squealer though. She seems the type to claw my eyeballs out if I bit her. I suppress a groan and attempt to force my gaze elsewhere. She’s a fucking kid, for crying out loud.
“Oh,” she utters, and brings her palm to her chest. “Oops.”
Her little show ends and I lift my gaze to hers. The smug look is gone and her creamy cheeks have turned bright pink. I clench my jaw and then point at the paper. “The answer is fourteen.”
She huffs. “That’s what I put.”
When I glance back down, I see that she scribbled out her answer and changed it. That little shit. She must have done it while I was staring at her goddamned tits.
“I ought to give you detention,” I hiss under my breath.
Her hands go to her hips and she practically yells at me. “Why?”
A few kids turn our way, curious about the outburst.
“You know why,” I seethe, my eyes dropping to her chest briefly before raking over the paper.