Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“Four hours on the bus.” She shuffles a little on her feet, and she averts her eyes from mine to look down at her white gym shoes. But when her gaze lifts back up again, I’m shocked when she asks, “Why does it feel like you’re always playing games with me?”
“I’m not,” I refute, more offended than I have the right to be after everything I’ve put her through.
“Are you sure?” Her eyes narrow, and her normally gentle voice starts to rise with irritation. “Because you invited me back to your dorm Saturday night. You kissed me. You asked me to stay. But then, I wake up, and you’re gone. No explanation. No nothing. No call or text or carrier pigeon after the fact. Why? Because if it’s not a game, I want to understand it. Give me a real reason why.”
Because I don’t want to fill your head with the bullshit I’ve been dealing with since I was a kid.
Because I didn’t want to wake you in the middle of the night to tell you I had to go save my baby sister from our father.
Because I came to this school to make my half brother feel the kind of pain I’ve been feeling ever since I was born.
Because I’m too fucked up for a girl like her.
I could tell her a million reasons, but I don’t. I can’t. Scottie shouldn’t have to shoulder the bullshit hand the game of life has dealt me. She shouldn’t have to think about the ugly realities my siblings and I have faced our whole lives.
And no matter how much I like her, no matter how drawn I am to her, she sure as shit shouldn’t be close to a guy like me. She deserves better.
“You don’t have anything to say, Finn?”
“I told you not to need me, Scottie. You’re too fucking good to need me,” I say like a total asshole.
“You know what, Finn?” she snaps, and a defiant hand goes to her hip. I feel proud of her and sad at the same time. “All this bullshit with you…it’s worse than what I went through with Dane.”
Her words have claws, and they slice through my chest until they draw blood.
I’ve had a lot of nasty things tossed my way. My dad’s called me stupid and pathetic and weak. He’s told me I’ll never amount to anything. In the midst of one of his drunken rages, he said that I was a mistake he wished they would’ve aborted.
But right now, none of those words have ever hit as hard as this.
I’m worse than her asshole ex, whom I literally saw manhandling her with my own two eyes. That’s how she sees me.
Scottie stands there for a long moment, but when I don’t say anything to that, can’t say anything to that, she walks away. Down the long hallway and out of sight, she’s gone.
And I have the unshakable feeling that she won’t be back.
Fuck.
Tuesday, October 15th
Scottie
Another day of English class and another day of sitting on the complete opposite side of the room from Finn. Only this time, it feels different.
More…final.
I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about the way we left things in the Kelly Financial office all weekend in Ithaca and trying to make peace with it. Surprisingly, now that I’ve had time to process, I don’t actually think Finn is ever trying to be hurtful. I think he’s drawn to me just like I’m drawn to him, but the demons he fights inside are too powerful to overcome. It’s why he plays me hot and cold, and it’s why when we are together, everything feels so right.
Unfortunately, it’s also why I know I have to find a way to get over him. The constant pull to be with him and the overwhelming urge to be his fixer is beyond unhealthy. I’m a freshman in college, for shit’s sake.
I have to let it go.
Ace strides in just in the nick of time, as per usual, as Professor Winslow starts class by writing details of a new assignment on the board.
I take out my notebook and flip to the next open page, doodling a dog and a cat and a fish to pass the time—anything to supersede the urge to stare at Finnley Hayes.
Professor Winslow caps his marker and places it on the shelf below the board, turning to face the class and clasping his hands together after he does. I turn to a blank page and start paying attention.
“Okay, folks. We’ve reached the halfway point of our first semester—and you know what that means… It’s time to get serious. We’re going to be working on one of the most poignant works of self-reflection and the consequences of assumption I’ve ever read,” Professor Winslow explains while I do my best to listen. I did okay on our test last week, but I wouldn’t say my level of concentration was at its peak. And I really can’t afford to let my grades slip.