Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“And let me state for the record,” JT added hotly, “that by damaging your project, I disqualified myself from the fair, too. And poor Julius Cheeser had been training to run that maze for months.”
I was not going to laugh. I wasn’t.
“You’re claiming you destroyed my project to keep me from being expelled?” I demanded incredulously. “Why not just tell me—”
“Because you never would have listened. You would have blown me off, and you know it.”
I swallowed hard. This… was hard to refute since it was the absolute truth.
Still, I refused to yield. “Great. Fine. You’re incredibly noble. So what about sophomore year in Spanish class? When I was top of the class until some asshole decided to switch from French to Spanish and get a private tutor just so he could become Señora’s teacher’s pet? What noble, selfless act was that about?”
He rolled his eyes and set his hands on his hips. “That wasn’t selfless. That was my mother deciding that having a son fluent in Spanish would be helpful for the Senator’s career. She made me study with a tutor all summer long so I could get up to speed. So, lo siento that I stole your crown, Flynn, but it was definitely not done on purpose. Jeez.”
I was losing momentum, my anger burning off as quickly as the warmth of the day now that the sun was going down. So I searched my memory banks and grabbed onto something even larger. Something guaranteed to stoke my wrath.
“You know what was on purpose?” I jabbed a finger in the air between us. “The time I applied for a part-time server job at the country club, and you made sure I didn’t get it.”
For the first time in this whole conversation, JT appeared caught on the back foot. He rubbed at the nape of his neck. “Shit. How’d you know that was me?”
His admission of guilt surprised me, but I tried not to show it. “There was no one else it could have been. I hadn’t told a single other person I was applying. But then that day you helped me change my tire, I—” I’d let myself trust him like a fucking idiot who willfully refused to learn his lesson. “—I thought maybe you could help me get the job, so I spilled my guts. But a week later, after I beat you in that debate, you got all pissy—”
“What? I did not!”
“—and then Olivia Symons gave me that prom-posal when everyone assumed she’d be asking you, and you were jealous—”
“Do you hear yourself? I’m gay, Flynn. I was never—”
“—so you decided I wasn’t good enough to serve the precious elites at Honeybridge Golf and Country Club.”
“Are you insane?” JT grabbed his hair with both hands, making the fine, dark blond strands stand on end. Somehow, this made him look even sexier, which only made me madder.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” I demanded. “Go on.”
“You are wrong. Dead wrong.”
“Oh, really? Then why would you—”
“Because I didn’t want you there!” he snapped like a man pushed beyond his limits. “I didn’t want you working your ass off the way you always have—always do—while the rest of us fucked off all summer playing stupid golf and going sailing, okay? I wouldn’t have been able to stand it. Not because I didn’t think you were good enough—because I thought you were too fucking good.”
The minute the words were out, JT’s eyes widened like he couldn’t believe he’d said them. Neither could I. But it was the very fact that he looked so alarmed, like he’d give anything to be able to suck those words back, that convinced me of his honesty.
We stared at each other for a long minute, both of us breathing hard.
“Instead, I had to work my ass off all summer at the Tavern,” I said quietly. “Because someone had to put food on the table while my parents were in New Zealand or wherever, doing fuck-all to help me raise my brothers and sister and look after my grandfathers. And believe me, the patrons there did not tip as well.”
JT’s head went back. He closed his eyes and shook his head minutely. “Okay. You’re right. I… hadn’t considered that.” When he opened his eyes again, the look in them was strangely soft and tender. Regret tinged with something horrifyingly like sympathy.
Utterly unacceptable.
“Yeah, well. Whatever,” I said gruffly. “It worked out. But it’s just another example of how you’ve fucked with me our whole lives. And that’s not getting into the whole business of—”
I broke off, literally biting my tongue to keep the words back. Had I really been about to bring up that fucking date he’d asked me on? A moment so humiliating that just remembering it fifteen years later made me want to curl up like one of McLean’s injured hedgehogs?