Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Ten seconds later, it repeats.
I tilt my head and prick my ears, realizing after a minute that the noise is rhythmic.
Whatever it is, it’s coming from Kingsley’s yard. I can’t see what’s going on because of the thick foliage that separates our properties. It’s not a conscious decision to creep closer until I’m all but buried in a clump of bushes and parting the leafy branches so I have an unobstructed view.
My breath hitches when I find a bare-chested Kingsley with a lacrosse stick in hand. He’s throwing a small white ball at some kind of standing trampoline. The ball hits the woven canvas and ricochets back to him. He catches it easily with the mesh netting of his stick before flicking the metal pole over his shoulder and releasing it from the pocket.
The repetitive motion is almost hypnotic.
Or maybe it’s Kingsley who is mesmerizing.
A soft sigh escapes as his muscles ripple. With moonlight pouring over him, he looks like an ancient Greek god. My core clenches in agreement.
I wince at that damning thought.
No.
No.
No.
He’s terrible.
Mean.
Cruel.
He isn’t the sweet boy who took me out on his boat. I don’t understand what happened to that guy. Maybe he was never real, merely an illusion I wanted to believe in. That thought fills me with so much heartache that it’s almost enough to swallow me whole. We only spent one day together, but it was enough for me to start falling for him.
“How long are you going to stand there and watch me?” he calls out, breaking into the whirl of my thoughts.
I straighten and knock my head against a thick branch. “Ow.”
Even though his lips tilt at the corners, his attention never deviates from what he’s doing. Nor does he break the rhythm of catching and releasing. There’s no other choice but to push through the foliage into his yard and show myself.
“Do you spy on me often?” he asks, not sounding interested in the answer.
“No.” My fingers bite into the blanket as I clutch it to my chest for protection. How that will keep me safe, I don’t know. But it makes me feel marginally better. “I was going to look at the stars.” I gulp and force myself to add, “It’s a cloudless night and they’re bright.”
He catches the ball with the mesh pocket one more time before tossing the stick to the ground and swinging toward me. The heavy weight of his gaze pins me in place. Movement becomes impossible. I don’t understand the strange power he has over me. I wish there were a way to shake it off and feel nothing. But I have yet to figure out how to flip that switch.
When he continues to watch me from behind hooded eyes, I clear my throat and blurt, “I like to stargaze at the back of the yard.”
“I know.”
The fine hair on my arms rise at that acknowledgment.
“I’ve watched you,” he adds without the least bit of shame.
And he accused me of spying? How many times has he done that, and I’ve been unaware? The thought should creep me out but doesn’t. And that is so many kinds of wrong.
When my tongue darts out to moisten my lips, his gaze drops to the movement before flicking back to mine. Only this time, heat swirls in his eyes.
“I heard about what happened to your brother.” There’s a pause. “Sucks for him.”
Anger bolts through me and my shoulders jerk as I scowl. “Football is everything to him.”
“Then he shouldn’t have jeopardized it.”
“We both know he didn’t start that fight,” I grit out, irritated with the comment. “You saw what happened.”
He shrugs before closing the gaping distance between us. “Here’s what you need to understand, Hawthorne. There are people with power and then there are those who don’t have any.” His eyes glitter in the moonlight. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, your family is one of the have nots.”
Why does he have to be such a jerk? “You love that, don’t you?”
One side of his mouth crooks. “Actually, I do. It’s a nice change of pace. The Hawthornes deserve every bit of their self-induced misery.”
As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right about us not having any power in this town or at the school.
But you know who does have power?
Kingsley Rothchild. He proved it when he stopped Jasper from doling out retribution in the hallway this morning. All it took was one sharp word from him and the other boy was backing down. Although that doesn’t mean Kingsley or his family have pull over the board at Hawthorne Prep. And even if they did, why would he help me when he’s delighted by our fall from grace?
“Seems like there’s something on your mind,” Kingsley drawls, interrupting my thoughts. “Why don’t you do us both a favor and spit it out.”