Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 111038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
I waited it out. I’d made myself a cup of coffee, so I lifted the mug and took a sip.
A second later, she spat out, her eyes narrowed and promising all sorts of way to gut me, “Who are you?”
I narrowed my eyes right back at her. “I take it you’re Miss Sandy.”
Some of her fiery promises faded, but her eyes only turned wary. Her nose wrinkled and her mouth turned down in a pinch. “You’re the marijuana shirt guy.”
I grinned. “I am, and it’s no longer my shirt since Aspen’s been sleeping in it. She wants it, she gets it.”
I hadn’t meant that to sound dirty.
I coughed, clearing my throat. “Let’s talk about Aspen’s parents, shall we?”
A whole different look came over her then, and she took a step back.
Awareness.
I saw it trickle in, and by the time we were done with our chat, there was a bit more on her face. I, however, was ready to bash something. More specifically, I was ready to roll heads.
“Thank you,” I managed to tell her at the end.
My coffee was long done, and I hadn’t refilled it. I didn’t need the caffeine. I was hyped up on a whole bunch of other emotions.
When I turned to head back upstairs, she called after me.
“You care for her.”
I nodded.
The truth of that surprised me. I hadn’t expected it. But I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t even want to anymore.
She nodded back. “Good.”
That was it.
That was my meeting with the infamous Miss Sandy, and I’d been right. I liked her.
And I didn’t care if she liked me or not. She would, eventually.
Everyone liked me, eventually.
Aspen was the only thing that mattered, and I was going to wake the entire neighborhood up, because she deserved to matter to everyone.
24
Blaise
“Hey.”
I was just putting my stuff in my locker when Zeke came over. Shutting it, I turned to him. “Hey.”
He grinned, leaning against my neighbor’s locker. “You don’t sound too enthused.”
“Would you?” I waited a beat, adding, “If I were doing the shit you’ve been doing?”
He flinched. “Yeah, man.” He raked a hand over his face. The hallway was full of students. Quite a few watched us, and I didn’t like it. I was used to the attention. We got it almost everywhere we went, but we were getting more.
They were all waiting, seeing if Zeke and I were going to throw down.
I wanted to give ’em all the middle finger.
“Look, let’s walk and talk?” he said. “Yeah?”
I nodded. We started down the hallway.
Anytime we needed to hash something out, we went to the football field. I’d be late for my next class, but that was fine. I only had one project due this week, and it was my last class of the day.
Zeke laughed as we headed out the door, flipping everyone behind us the middle finger. “Hungry-as-fuck gawkers.”
We were on the same wavelength.
Zeke waited to speak until we were past the groups hanging around outside. Once we’d crossed the parking lot, he put his hands in his pockets, hunching forward. “So.”
I could hear how uncomfortable he felt. That made me feel a little better, just a bit.
“I, uh, I don’t really know how to start this.” He laughed with a hitch.
I’d never heard Zeke sound uncomfortable. This was a first in our friendship.
“I do.”
He sighed, angling toward the bleachers. “Why am I not surprised?”
I smiled, and my shoulders relaxed a whole lot. “Why are you such a dick?”
He snorted. “You’re calling me a dick?”
“Yeah. I’m not a dick like you. I don’t control and intimidate and do that sort of shit. I don’t make others fall in line and do what I say.”
“I disagree with that.”
I growled. “We gonna talk this out or just go right to punching? I’m down with either.”
He eased away. “I’ve no doubt you’re good with throwing a punch. I’ve seen you do it.”
Now that I thought about it, I had intimidated Brian when I shoved him against the wall. And I’d told Jamie he couldn’t hang with me if he was scared of fighting. So I guess in that way, I was as guilty as Zeke. Well, fuck me then.
But I hadn’t hit anyone except Brian that one time. I’d wanted to throw down a few times, but I always refrained, which was a good thing. Me fighting was not good, ever. Everyone knew my brother could fight, but no one knew my rep. I’d left that back in New York and been thankful to escape it.
“Why do you think I’ve never called your bluff about fighting?” he asked quietly.
I sneered at him. “The dick part of me wants to say it’s because you’re a pansy.” His eyes went flat, and I smirked. “But the part of me that’s trying not to be that guy has no clue.” A beat. “So why not?”