Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Or even my own fucking name.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I mean, it was okay.”
Preppy chuckled and fell on top of me, clutching my face in his hands. “Hey, Doc?” he asked, searching my eyes. His laugh quieted and his smile fell.
My stomach flipped. “Yeah?”
“This time...I’m gonna keep you.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I said.
He looked into my eyes and stroked my cheek. “I’m gonna try my fucking hardest to keep you.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
PREPPY
We were still in bed when I turned to Doc. Her hair was a mess, sticking out a million ways from her head. Her red lipstick was smeared all over her cheeks.
She was fucking gorgeous. I pulled her leg so her thigh was resting over mine.
“What did you do before, you know, to de-stress? For fun?” Doc asked, twirling a shiny lock of her hair between her fingers. Of course the first thing that came to my mind was fucking, although fucking anyone other than her was more like a chore. A struggle in trying not to hurt anyone while trying to take some sort of pleasure out of the situation. Until Dre, I’d failed at it. I’d failed a LOT. Still, I must have had that dirty look in my eye. “Other than that,” she said, nudging my shoulder. “What’s something you haven’t done in a while? Something we can do together? Right now.”
A smile crept onto my face and I smiled at my girl like a fool as one thing came to mind that always made me feel better once I’d done it. “There is ONE thing...” My smile grew even bigger. “Tell me, Doc.” I leaned in close, “How do you feel about misdemeanors?”
“They have their uses.”
“Come on. I’ll show you how much fun those uses can be.”
Twenty minutes later we were standing in front of the Stop- N-shop in the shadows where the one overhead light in the parking light couldn’t reach. We had a full view of the heavily pimpled man-child working the counter, but there was no way he could see us.
“On the count of three,” I said, “One...”
“Wait, why are we doing this again?” Dre asked with a giggle that made my balls tighten.
“Because revenge is sweet and bullying is wrong, don’t you read the papers? These people need to be taught a lesson for future generations.”
“He bullied you?” she asked, sounding as if he’d also kicked her puppy.
“Yep, used to kick my ass all the time in grade school. You know, I won though, but it was still super annoying.”
“That fucker!”
“Exactly. So are we doing this or what, Doc? If you’re in it’s pick up that pretty skirt and grab your balls. Are you in or are you out?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Oh, I’m in alright.” Dre raised her arm in launch position and tipped her chin to me. “Ready!”
I started the countdown. “One...Two...Three!” On three we both threw as hard as we can, not stopping until the two dozen eggs in the carton were all gone and smashed against the window. “It’s fucking beautiful,” Dre said, admiring the smears and drips of liquid yolk sliding down the glass, the lights from inside the store gave what we did a backlit effect, making it look as if the window was glowing.
“We should probably run,” I suggested, hearing the ding of the front door and the stomp of angry steps across the pavement.
“Sure, where do you want to go now...”
“No, we should run!” I yelled, grabbing her arm and dragging her with me until she realized that Tyler was right behind us as well as blue and red lights of a patrol car that had just skid into the parking lot.
“Shit!” Dre squealed sounding more delighted than one should be when the possibility being cuffed in the back of a squad car by the end of the night was pretty fucking high.
“This way,” I said, leading her over the chain link fence in the back of the store and then down the path that twisted through a wooded area and ended up across the road from my house. We darted over dead plants and tree roots, my memory of the path I used to know so well the only thing guiding us forward on the dark path. Dre squealed again when we heard the sound of the fence rattling. A mini tunnel of brightness darted from side to side ahead of us, courtesy of a strong ass cop flashlight.
“Stop, you’re under arrest!” ordered the officer chasing us.
“If we keep going this way he’s going to catch up to us. We need a better plan,” Dre pointed out.
She was right. I wasn’t the only one who knew the path, but suddenly, like an idea bulb growing bright, a light came into view in the distance from a house that definitely didn’t exist last time I was in those woods. Laughter and soft rock music filled the air. A clink of glasses. A splashing of water. The smell of meat on a grill. It seemed as if someone was having a barbecue, and those someones were about to have two new best friends.