Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 98992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
I don’t feel guilty for lying to Bambi.
I only feel guilty for not telling Pres why I needed her so bad when I did.
“Collins-”
“I’m not in the mood to hear anymore fucking bullshit, Bambi,” I state at the same time I open my car door. “And you know what else? Maybe if you fucking thought more about us and less about her and how I may or may not be cheating on you with her, you’d realize that you’re what’s fucking up this relationship, not some chick I haven’t even fucking thought about in months.”
Knowing how full of shit I am, I prepare to slide inside before even more lies can be created without hesitation.
She stomps her foot at me again. “Where the hell are you going?”
“Away.”
Her mouth opens but my door shuts leaving the shrill noise on the other side.
After starting the car, I back out of her driveway wanting nothing more than to drive straight to Pres, pull her into my lap, and do the things I do drunk with Bambi, soberly with her.
Our little stolen tastes of each other have been happening now for a couple weeks.
Kiss taken behind a bookshelf.
Ass grabs in an empty hall.
Texts and pics constantly sent and deleted to leave no traceable evidence of our interactions.
I knew once my lips were finally on hers again that I wouldn’t be able to give her up.
No.
Not fucking twice.
And the fact that she’s dating that moron who thinks he’s gonna be a Cuban Kanye while I’m dating the damaged toy that you’d find at the bottom of a cereal box is irrelevant.
Nothing else fucking matters but us being together.
The problem is figuring out how to pass the time in between.
How to cope with the fact that all this shit between us has to be a secret.
As much as we both want, we can’t just come forward and be together again.
See, her parents have fucking forbidden her to have any contact with me. Apparently, any guy who hurts her to the level that her mother had to make new batches of monkey bread every three days just so her daughter would eat something other than crackers doesn’t deserve a second chance.
And her brother, Gabe, – who was overprotective from the first time we met – swears to her that if he ever runs into me when he’s home one weekend from college that he won’t be going back to his dorm but to prison for curb stomping my face in.
Now, in regard to my own parents?
Eh.
Their opinions haven’t really changed much. Mom still mentions how polite and well-behaved Pres was – usually when scolding me for shit like having my elbows on the table – yet doesn’t ever hesitate to add a dig about her “too out-of-season” fashion choices while Dad will sporadically remind me that it was nice I dated someone who wasn’t money obsessed like some of the girls my sister brings around but then uses that opportunity to insist I get back the diamond promise ring as well as anything else expensive I got her.
Said sister, Liz, doesn’t care whatsoever about what’s going on in my life since it doesn’t directly affect her, yet lent her opinion on the social suicide it would be to ever get back together after such a public breakup. I could probably get fucking high enough not to care about all of that bullshit, but I hate the idea of Pres having to endure anymore ridicule than what we’re already fucking going through.
As for what Noah’s had to say…well…his advice is just…fucking unhelpful. Sometimes it feels like he’s telling me to just do whatever fucking makes me happy and be with whoever does that, and then at other times, it’s like he’s tells me to stop focusing on who can touch my dick to focus on actually going somewhere in life other than the gym.
Every fucking way we look, judgements are just there.
Waiting to be spoken.
Waiting to be made.
It’d be real fucking helpful if they all just fucked up so we could just go back to doing our own thing together.
Flopping down on Ivo’s couch, I let out a huge sigh of gratitude.
While dating Bambi definitely has its downsides – fuck, dating her at all is the downside –, it, to my fucking surprise, it’s also come with a few perks.
Free rubbers because her dad works for Trojan.
Continual threesomes because she can’t fucking handle her X at any party.
And my absolute fucking favorite, which is Ivo. He’s one of the best product agents – better branding than drug dealer – not only on our campus but the three nearby public schools and one Catholic prison too. What I appreciate most about Ivo – aside from his dedication to making sure he only sells pure and quality shit – is he minds his own fucking business. He doesn’t offer real advice unless you ask. And damn sure doesn’t give up information about people or their secrets or their problems because he doesn’t want shit given up about him or his.