Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 129986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
I reach for my bag in the floorboard and yank it up on my lap. “Anyway, I don’t want to be late to my first class. You don’t have to pay for my tires to be replaced. It was kind of you to offer, and I appreciate the ride, but I’d rather deal directly with Anae.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I appreciate your input,” I say, opening the car door and climbing out.
I hear his car door open. “That sure sounds a lot like, ‘thanks, but I didn’t fucking ask you,” he remarks.
I can’t help smiling as I grab my backpack and hoist it on my right shoulder. “Wow, you really excel at reading between the lines, don’t you?”
He smirks, joining me on the curb and falling into step beside me. I can’t help but read into his mildly suggestive tone as he says, “If you got to know me, I think you’d find I really excel at a lot of things.”
“Just not taking notes,” I say solemnly.
With exaggerated cockiness, he says, “That’s grunt work. Below my pay grade.”
I’m still amused, but that feeling ebbs as we near the entrance doors and everybody seems to be watching us. I’ve walked through these doors plenty of times over the course of my high school career, but I’ve never experienced it this way, like I’m walking the red carpet with an A-lister on my arm.
I guess because I’ve never had an A-lister on my arm, but Dare is definitely an A-lister at Baymont High. Maybe the A-lister. Sure, he might be mentally unstable, but his dad is richer than God, and his mom is a former Miss Bolivia who was in the Miss Universe pageant and everything. Between his looks, money, and general coolness, there’s no one more popular at this school.
I’m uncomfortable with all the attention, but when I glance over at Dare, it doesn’t seem to faze him. Maybe because this is what it’s like for him every day. On the way in, a dozen people call out greetings. I feel hotter and hotter with each returned wave, each set of eyes seeing us together.
I’m already feeling claustrophobic, then the air is sucked from my lungs as Dare casually drapes his arm around my neck and over my shoulders, keeping me close as we enter the main hall. “While I can understand your desire to skip the middleman and go straight to Anae, it is true what you said: it’s ultimately my fault your tires were slashed.”
Oh my god, there are people everywhere and I feel all of their eyes trained on us. I try to shrug off his arm, but he just pulls me closer.
“Are you crazy?” I demand, trying—and failing—to pull out of his grasp. I look over at him, wide-eyed. “People are staring. Let me go.”
He smiles like the wolf cornering Little Red Riding Hood in the woods. “No problem. I’ll let you go as soon as you give me your keys.”
I gape at him, disbelieving. “Are you… blackmailing me into letting you pay for my car repairs?”
“That seems like dramatic terminology, but yeah, I guess if you want to word it that way, you can.”
I gape for another few seconds, but then I look around and see people staring at us and speaking in hushed tones. A girl with black pigtails grabs her phone and angles it like she’s about to take our picture.
To report back to the evil queen, no doubt.
Dare notices the girl about to take our picture. Rather than let go and move away like a normal guy about to get caught in a compromising position, he leans closer. “Tick tock, mermaid. We have an audience.”
“You are an actual mental patient,” I say, my face on fire. “But fine. If you’re that adamant about it, you can have the stupid car fixed. Now, please let me go before your girlfriend literally murders me.”
Dare lets go, smirking as he steps away. “There. Now, was that so hard?”
I shake my head. “Yes, actually. You made it extremely difficult.”
He holds out his empty palm expectantly. “Keys.”
I hesitate, glancing at the girl with the phone. I guess she already took her picture because now she’s looking at her phone screen.
It still feels like a bad idea, but I unzip the side pocket and dig out my keys.
He grabs them. “You need your house key?”
“Oh.” I grab them back, singling out my house key so I can keep it.
Before I can take it off the ring, he says, “On second thought, you can leave it. I’ll make sure you have your keys back before school’s over.”
I look up at him uncertainly. “Are you sure?”
He looks back, not a single flicker of uncertainty in his gaze. If he told me right now he’s never felt uncertainty in his life, I’d believe him—and I’d be really jealous. “I’m sure.”