Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Chapter
Bailey
An entire lifetime passes in the days Lev and I are in the same town, on the same street, but not on the same page.
Kingdoms rise. Empires fall. Somehow, I don’t call Sydney. I don’t throw away the piece of paper with his number, either. I let it burn a hole in the bottom of my nightstand drawer while I contemplate taking a swim in the ocean and never swimming back to shore.
I’m lying face down on my bed when Mom bulldozes into my room. She stopped knocking when I first came home from the hospital, and I know it’s because she doesn’t trust me with a boiled egg, let alone to not to try to get high on some innocent home supplies.
“Hello, Mother.” My voice is muffled by my pillow.
“Darling girl.” Her voice holds a note of exasperation. “Your father and I are taking leave of our roles as your bloodthirsty, tyrannical guards and will be attending the theater tonight.”
They must be having one of their quadruplet dates with Baron and Millie, Trent and Edie, and Dean and (sometimes) Dixie.
“What’re you watching?” I lift my head, pretending it matters and that I’m not completely numb and dead inside.
Mom sees this as an invitation to take a seat on the edge of my bed. My room, like the rest of my pre-drug life, is flawless.
White, upholstered queen bed, pastel pink walls, fairy string lights clipped with Polaroid pictures of all my friends and family, an elaborated vanity and a shelf with my favorite poetry books—all hardcovers, customized sprayed edges, and in pristine condition. Once upon a time, the same could be said about their owner.
“OKLAHOMA!” Mom says. “All capitals, with an exclamation point at the end, in case you were wondering.”
“Sounds…frenetic,” I murmur. “What’s it about?”
“It’s a musical. Pretty well-known, actually. I can take you if you want.” Mom is all dolled up. It occurs to me she and Dad haven’t gone out once since my return. They usually went on weekly dates. I killed their social life, then shot it in the head for good measure in case it still had a pulse. They must hate me.
Join the club, folks.
“As lovely as it sounds, I’m beat.” I force a smile. “But you go enjoy OKLAHOMA! in all capitals and an exclamation point. I’ll be fine alone. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried,” she says airily. “Lev will be staying here while we’re gone to make sure your needs are met.”
This makes me shoot up from my bed like it’s on fire and stand in front of her, an angry porcupine, all spiked up and ready to stab someone. “My needs are to not see that douchebag’s face right now.”
“Oh.” She hitches a shoulder up. “Well, that specific need won’t be met, I guess.”
“You’re shitting me, right?”
Mom blinks slowly and retorts, “Actually, I had you vaginally. Not for your lack of trying to make me get a C-section. You were breech the entire last trimester. Dr. Shulman had to turn yo—”
“Not funny, Mom.” I rake my fingers through my hair, shaking all over. “I’m not being babysat by Lev Cole. I was the one who babysat him, for chrissake!”
“You were different back then. And you were left together unsupervised because we trusted both of you not to burn down the house or do hard drugs,” she says tersely. “Only one of you is still trusted not to do those things—and I thought you were still friends.”
I want to scream.
To announce Lev Cole isn’t that perfect.
That while I was a senior and he was a junior, I drove him home from parties plenty of times because he was too shit-faced to recognize the color of his own car. That he once broke Tyler Barrera’s nose because he pinched my ass.
That when he found out Travis Tran gave me my first kiss, Lev—then a freshman—dangled the poor guy from the roof of the mall and threatened to use Travis’s spine as anal beads.
That Lev has anger issues. Plenty of them. That he would bungee-jump without a rope if someone would let him and that he loves participating in illegal car races because fast machinery gives him a thrill.
Lev isn’t some tortured hero. He is explosive, jealous, possessive, and more toxic than a straight shot of laundry detergent.
He’s just great at hiding it and can probably get away with a lot more because he is a boy. And boys will be boys, right?
Pointing a finger at Mom, I warn, “If you care about our relationship even a little bit, you will cancel with Lev and let me stay alone.”
Mom stands up, smoothing her white-belted, feather-hemmed Miu Miu dress. “I care about our relationship very deeply, but I value your well-being above all else. Lev will be here any minute now. I’m not sure what the deal is between you two, but one thing has stood the test of time, and that is the fact that Lev loves you far more than he loves himself and will never let anything happen to you. So put on your big girl pants…any pants would be good, actually.”