Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 140629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
“Hi, I’m sorry. I left the keys home.”
Caspian’s dad walked up to the door in plaid pajamas that resembled the ones in Caspian’s drawers. “You haven’t been drinking, have you? I wouldn’t like to see you making a habit out of that. Not to mention that you were driving—”
“I’m sober, jeez!” Gunner pushed past Caspian’s mom, rigid with frustration, his leg and ribs aching from bruises that were developing on his body.
“What are you wearing? Where are your clothes?” Mom asked as the door shut.
Caspian had intended to go straight to his room, but knew he couldn’t leave such questions unanswered, so he spun around and spread his arms wide.
“This is me now. Take it or leave it.”
Caspian’s dad frowned as they all walked farther into the grand house. “No need to be rude.” He turned to his wife. “Look, Barb, we had all sorts of fashions back in our day.”
Fake Mom—Barb—shook her head. “Yes, but I’m not recognizing my son anymore. What’s gotten into you, Caspian?”
A big bad motherfucker with a chip on his shoulder, Gunner wanted to say but bit his lips and mumbled, “I’m just experimenting.”
“Oh, so you want to change your style… start fresh?” Barb asked, cupping her cheek with one hand with concern painted all over her face.
“Is that color on your hair permanent? Why didn’t you do any of this in college, like everyone else?” Fake Dad inquired, frowning.
Gunner ran his fingers through his blond hair. He’d loved it at the barber’s, and the large mirror confirmed that he still looked cute. “I wanted to switch things up.”
Barb cleared her throat. “Some men dye their hair now. At least it’s a nice natural shade,” she said, but then her eyes went wide, and she stepped up to Gunner. “Is that a piercing in your ear? Caspian! Are you seeing this, Thomas?”
Gunner spread his arms. “I’m not a child! If I want to get a piercing, I will. Who knows, maybe I’ll do my nose next!”
“Are you not too old for this kind of rebellious phase?” Barb asked, gesturing at Gunner’s ear. “It looks unprofessional. What if some of your clients dislike it?”
Gunner clutched at his hair. “Looks have nothing to do with doing my job well!” he said, even though he still didn’t know what degree Caspian had.
“Tell that to all the people who won’t ever get employed because they’d tattooed their hands or faces.”
The words struck Gunner harder than Bud’s steel-capped boot had. He clenched his fists, breathing hard. “Sure, just write people off based on their looks! You don’t know their lives or what led to some of their—”
Thomas rubbed his grey moustache and spoke. “Caspian, I’ve got work tomorrow. I don’t have time for these theoretical constructs. I understand you’re adjusting to life after college. We’ll iron out the wrinkles with time. If you’re looking to reinvent yourself, tomorrow is a good time. You need a new suit for our garden party, and your mom’s taking you shopping. You’ll be meeting Mr. Sadler and the rest of the firm as a future employee, and need to make a good impression if you’re to put your best foot forward for the job.”
Gunner screamed out in helpless rage, because there was nowhere else he could channel it. “Fine!” He took a swipe at a notebook resting on the edge of the side table, and sent it to the floor with a clatter.
“Caspian!” Barb held her finger up in warning, but Gunner was already running upstairs. While he wouldn’t have to worry about any of those expectations come tomorrow, they now felt oppressive and very much real. The demands of Caspian’s parents were a bitter reminder that he wasn’t good enough, even in this body, with a smooth face that didn’t carry the mark of his worst decisions.
His fake parents must have given up for tonight, because he couldn’t hear any shouting or footsteps banging on the stairs as he stepped into the dark bedroom and turned the key to lock himself in. He was midway through a frantic inhale when big, strong hands closed around him and pulled him against a sturdy body. He wanted to scream out, but a meaty palm closed tightly on his face and would block any sound.
Was it Bud? Todd? Had they both snuck in here to finish what they’d started?
Panic sank into his muscles when he realized he couldn’t breathe, but before he could have thrown the first ineffective punch, ready to fight for his life, a familiar voice whispered straight into his ear.
“What the hell was that downstairs, huh?”
He should know his own voice, yet it sounded different when he heard it through someone else’s ears. Deep and raspy, it sent chills down his back. He stilled at the realization that the massive hand against his face and the body squeezing him from behind weren’t a threat. The scent of cologne he didn’t know enveloped him in a confusing mix of fear and excitement. Caspian must have been there for a while and used a perfume from his own collection instead of the cheap cologne Gunner had at home. It had a thrilling, spicy quality that made Gunner’s toes curl in his pretty new shoes, even though he was still angry at the treasonous bastard.