Total pages in book: 238
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
The tears welled.
He saw me. He saw that happen to me.
He saw what the whole world thought of me, and now he…
Now he…
A hand slipped under mine, warm and smooth, and I snapped my head left, seeing Will in the seat next to me.
What…?
A lump filled my throat as I gaped at the side of his face, wanting to be raging mad that he was there and touching me again without my permission, but…
He curled his fingers, gripping me, and…and it took a moment to get a hold of myself.
Finally, I forced a scowl and yanked my hand away.
Or tried to.
He wouldn’t let go. Or look at me. He just tossed his black hoodie over our hands and chatted to the guy in the next seat like I wasn’t here.
My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out the music from my earbuds, and I had to force my breathing to slow down.
I closed my eyes and turned toward the window. Why was he doing this?
And why was I just sitting here? The warmth from his strong fingers seeped into mine as he held me, and I looked over at him again, seeing him slouched in the seat, long legs stretched into the aisle as the players, cheerleaders, and band carried on around us.
He just stared at his phone now like there was nothing going on underneath the hoodie between us. Like he wasn’t completely aware that he was holding me.
It took three tries, but I eventually swallowed, wetting my dry throat as I pulled his sweatshirt over us more, making sure our hands were covered. Maybe he thought I didn’t want anyone to see. Maybe he didn’t want anyone to see. Either way, I didn’t care anymore.
The bus jostled side to side, taking us back onto the highway, and I fisted my hand, too, a fire burning low in my belly at the feel of his skin.
Movement caught my eye ahead, but I didn’t look up because I knew what it was. Desi Castro sat in our center’s lap, reverse cowgirl, and through the dim moonlight and shadows, I was pretty sure they were being fairly fucking stupid—albeit quietly—in the seat in front of us.
Her long, red locks draped over the back of the seat, and I finally raised my eyes as she leaned back against him, their lips barely touching as their bodies moved slow but rhythmic in the darkness.
Will rubbed his thumb across my finger, and my stomach flipped, the gesture comforting.
My phone beeped, and I turned over my right hand, unlocking the screen with my thumb. The phone lit up my place by the window, rain pummeling the bus as we drove through the dark night.
“Let me take you home,” it read.
I clicked my music off, glancing over and seeing his phone in his hand, too—the same text visible.
“No,” I typed back.
I couldn’t let him take me home. Not ever. I tried to pull away from his hand, but he clasped it tightly.
“Let me take you home,” he typed again.
I clenched my teeth and turned my eyes out the window. I tried to pull my hand away once more, but he grasped it, forcing it instead onto my thigh, his fingers grazing my skin there.
A bolt of lightning shot through me, but instead of being angry, butterflies swarmed in my stomach and I squeezed my eyes shut. Leaving him there.
My phone beeped, and it took a moment to look at it. “I want to hold you like that,” it said.
I glanced up at Miller and Desi again, his arms wrapped around her, and I pictured myself in Will’s lap, parked off some dark road in the rain, and it took everything I had not to look at him, because if I did, he’d know…
He would know that I didn’t always hate him. A sliver of my brain was starting to believe there was more to him.
But I shoved his hand off, biting the corner of my mouth to keep the emotions away.
“Cops came to the warehouse and took all the tappers,” someone said loud enough to pierce my earbuds.
I turned my head enough to see a cheerleader, Lynlee Hoffman, across the aisle, looking back at Will.
He sat there, his hand still under the hoodie, acting like everything was completely normal. “Oh, yeah?” he said.
But he didn’t give a shit.
Lynlee shot me a look, narrowing her eyes and lifting her chin, because if they found out there was a party, it was because I had told my brother, right? As if the cops had to be geniuses to figure out a win always equaled a kegger at the warehouse. Duh.
I turned up the volume on my music again, drowning out any other sounds and tapped my thumbs, typing out a message. “Take her home. She’ll drool all over your dumb haircut and extensive knowledge of micro-brews and penis jokes.”