Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 93312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
When Monday rolled around, Holden acted as if Friday night never happened, and I was happy to play along. Christian avoided me entirely, which wasn’t unexpected. I wanted to talk to him, to make sure he was okay, but the only time I saw him was at lunch in front of everyone, and even then, he left early. Seeing him made me feel slightly better because he didn’t seem to be in pain, and I wondered if that was because he wasn’t hurting, or if he was simply good at hiding it.
Baker was noticeably absent, too. I thought back to their fight in the hall, knowing it’s somehow related. All these pieces to the puzzle, but I can’t seem to figure out how to make them all fit. I don’t even know if they’re from the same puzzle.
“Shayne!” Valen snaps her fingers in front of my face, jerking me from my thoughts.
“Sorry.” I shake my head, focusing my attention on her as we walk to our cars. “What’d you say?”
“What’s up with you?” She narrows her eyes at me. “You’ve been distracted all day.”
“I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Valen wiggles her brows. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with that sexy stepbrother of yours, would it?”
I roll my eyes. “He’s not my stepbrother.” I feel like I should get it tattooed on my forehead at this point.
“Shayne Elizabeth Courtland, did you fuck him?” Her eyes widen, and she stops short, facing me.
“No!” I snap, looking around to make sure we don’t have an audience. How would she even begin to guess that based off that response? “I mean yes, but no,” I whisper.
Her eyes shift back and forth, confused. “I’m not following.”
“I’ll call you later,” I promise, not wanting to have this conversation here, pulling her in for a hug before heading for my car.
“You’re an asshole!” she singsongs as I walk away.
When I open the door, I find a hoodie folded up in my front seat. I scan the parking lot, searching for Thayer’s Challenger. It’s just a plain black hoodie, but I know it’s his. I’ve seen him wear it a thousand times. I bite down on my lip to keep from smiling, fighting the urge to do something stupid, like bring it to my nose and see if it smells like him.
No. Don’t swoon, you idiot. You should be mad. He doesn’t get to give you emotional whiplash.
Tossing it onto the passenger seat, I climb in, drop my phone into my lap, then stick my key into the ignition. Before I can back out of my spot, my phone buzzes between my thighs.
Keep your window open tonight.
The number is one I don’t recognize, but there’s only one person it could be. Nerves and excitement tangle together at the promise of seeing him. Ugh. I’ve never met someone so hot and cold in my life, not to mention infuriating, impossible, and entitled.
Try telling that to the butterflies in my stomach.
The rest of the night dragged on mercilessly slow. I’m sure it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that I spent every agonizing second anticipating whatever Thayer was up to. Did he plan to break this thing between us off? Did he plan on coming back for another taste like nothing happened? I told myself I wasn’t going to open my window, that I wasn’t going to be that girl who did whatever he said with no questions asked. But in the end, I left it open, with a promise to myself that I’d have a real conversation with him about how I felt. No touching. No sex. At least not before I’d gotten some real answers.
I stand in my walk-in closet, wearing sleep shorts and a matching lace camisole. No. This won’t do. I need more clothes. Something frumpy and…unattractive. I don’t want him getting cocky, thinking I wore this for him. I shove my shorts down my thighs and pull my top off before switching it out for a pair of baggy sweatpants and a pastel tie-dye sweatshirt. I stand in front of the full-length mirror in my closet, rolling the waistband a few times so they stay in place. My face is stripped of makeup, hair in a messy bun. I look borderline homeless. Perfect.
When ten o’clock rolls around and he’s still not here, I start to suspect he’s not coming. I climb into bed, swipe my phone and earbuds off the bedside table, and find an episode of my favorite podcast to pass the time. Five minutes. I’ll give him five more minutes.
I don’t know how long has passed when I jerk upright, finding Thayer standing inside my window. Shit. I must have fallen asleep. I can only see his silhouette standing there, his frame tall and imposing. I flip the switch on the small lamp next to my bed, bathing the room in dim light, then I swing my legs over the side of my mattress, moving toward him.