Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
What in the fresh hell was that about? I don’t know how to feel.
“Out with it,” my father says. “What did you do that’s got you so nervous about seeing He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named?”
Ah crap.
I wince, glancing up at Dad. “Promise you won’t get mad?”
He stares at me as if he’s never been more offended in his life. “I pinky promised,” he declares. “Does that not mean anything to you?”
Rolling my eyes, I let out a heavy sigh and hope like hell my parents can somehow look past this and see the funny side of it all. “I, uh . . . Well, I need to have a real conversation with Noah, away from . . . everything, and if I just asked him to come over here and lay everything out on the table, he would have said no. I have to work up to that, and to be able to get there, we need to be forced together, over and over again. And so . . . I may or may not have found a way to draw him out.”
Hazel laughs, a smirk pulling at her lips. “Well, whatever you did worked because he’s coming for dinner for the first time in over three years.”
“What did you do?” Mom pushes, no longer pretending that she’s not listening.
“Well, I umm . . .” I wince. “I sort of stole his car and did a burnout down the street in front of the whole football team.”
“YOU DID WHAT?” Mom sputters as Dad gapes at me, his eyes going wide with pride.
“In his Camaro? Wow. How was it, sweetheart?”
“Henry!” My mother scolds him before flicking her gaze back to mine. “Wait. I didn’t see his car in the driveway. Where is it?”
“I might have dumped it at the park and then walked home, but don’t worry,” I rush out. “The park is safe. It’s not like anything is going to happen to it. Plus, I still have the keys. I just . . . felt that after three years of radio silence, he deserved a little payback while on the road to redemption.”
Mom shakes her head. “I worry about you, Zoey.”
“What?” I say as a slow grin stretches across my face. “Try and tell me he didn’t deserve it. Besides, if I’m the one putting myself at risk trying to help him, then shouldn’t I get a little something for my troubles?”
Mom scoops up her wine again, taking a long, healthy sip. “As far as I’m aware,” she mutters to herself, “you two were made for one another. Now go set the table. They should be here in an hour.”
Scurrying out of the kitchen and into the dining room, I get ready to set the table when I hear mom turn on my father. “Now you,” she says. “Where do you get off butting into Zoey and Noah’s business?”
“What?” Dad responds. “She steals a car, and I’m the one getting in trouble? Where’s the sanity in that?”
“Oh God,” Mom says. “I knew I should have bought more wine.”
16
Noah
She stole my fucking car.
Innocent little Zoey fucking James stole my car, and not only that, but she did a burnout right up the main street in front of the school.
What in the fresh hell was that?
I stare at her across the dining table, my fingers drumming on the hard wood, unable to look away. I don’t know if I want to get in her face or applaud her for a job well done. If it had been anyone else or any other car, I might even go as far as to say that I was impressed, maybe even a little turned on. Okay, a lot turned on, but this is Zoey, and I shouldn’t be thinking of her like that.
Showing up here, I quickly realized my Camaro wasn’t in the driveway, and my anger has been boiling beneath the surface ever since. What the fuck did she do with it? Knowing Zoey, this is all part of her master plan. She has more in store for me, and I’m playing right into the palm of her hand. But what else am I supposed to do? She’s holding my car hostage and I’m not about to let her get away with it.
She glares right back at me as our parents try to hold some semblance of a conversation. They’re either oblivious to the tension in the room or going well out of their way to ignore it. But to me, all that exists right now is Zoey and the smug grin resting on her full lips.
Fuck, I want to kiss them so bad, but not like the way I used to. I’ve kissed her thousands of times before, each one just as amazing as the last, but they were the kind of kisses an innocent boy gives to the girl of his dreams, nothing but a respectable peck here and there. But the way I want to kiss her right now. That’s different. I want to claim her, kiss her so fucking deeply that her knees crumble, and I have to grasp her waist just to keep her on her feet.