Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 79183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Why am I so invested in this?
In Ambrose?
Even Quinn?
My brain says it’s because Ambrose is all I have, but my heart says a whole bunch of different things that make me wish I had a best friend I could talk to.
Of course, Quinn chooses that moment to be late to class and drops down in the desk next to me with a plop. “Think they notice I’m tardy?”
I smile over at him. “You were loud enough.”
“I can’t help it.” He winks. “I’m loud with everything and everyone.”
Damn.
His eyes fall to my lips before he looks back up at me.
I clear my throat. “You doing okay then? Now? Today?”
“Eh, life is life, and I wouldn’t do well in prison—I’m too sexy, I’d probably get fucked within an inch of my life by a guy named Butch. The wedding would include a naked cat, our two rescue dogs, and a cover band for Coldplay. It would be glorious.”
I burst out laughing and cover my mouth with my hand, then say, “Thought this through, have you?”
“Daily.” He laughs. “But maybe not Coldplay. I’m more of a BTS sort of guy, smooth like butter and all that.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re dangerous is what you are.”
“To your heart.” He deadpans. “Really, I’m touched.” He makes a move to tap me with his pencil.
“Reach for my hand, and I’m stabbing you with my pencil.”
“Damn it.” He leans back into his seat, all relaxed and cool looking, which is even more annoying. “You’re no fun.”
“Oh, I’m loads of fun. I just can’t get over that girl up there smiling like she didn’t just somehow wreck you and Ambrose, and I too, wouldn’t last in prison.”
He pauses, and I can see the hesitation on his face before he recovers. “Right, but what would your wedding theme song be? I mean, that’s what’s the most important here…”
I think about it for a minute while Mr. Dekker keeps droning on and on about the new teacher’s aid from Hell and finally say, “Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift.”
Quinn glances at Mr. Dekker to make sure I’m assuming he’s not watching us in the back talking, then whispers, “Why that song?”
“Because…” I chew on the end of my pen and then pull it out of my mouth. “It’s about her fantasy. Her fantasy with the perfect guy, only to have reality shatter the minute they’re both back in the real world. I kind of imagine my life like that. Where you get your hopes up and you enjoy the moment as much as you can, and then suck it up when you realize it’s not real.”
Quinn’s face falls. “What makes you think you can’t have that as your reality?”
“What makes you think I can?”
“Do you own a mirror? Not to mention, even if I had to put a bag over your head every day so I could stare at you without vomiting, you have pretty much the best personality ever.”
I shake my head. “You’re an ass.”
“But a nice one.” He points out. “I’m all about personality, regardless of age, sex, gender…” He says the last part quietly.
I tilt my head toward him. “Ever kissed a guy?”
“Once,” he says. “But, and I swore I would take this to my grave, he was super, super bad at it. I had to teach him not to shove his tongue down my mouth. Girls are much softer.”
“Are we, now?”
“Very.” He nods.
It’s so strange. How different Ambrose and Quinn are, and yet, they have similar personalities, almost like Quinn’s allowed to be himself and Ambrose isn’t.
My body suddenly feels heavy.
I’m not surprised by his confession. Everyone experiments in high school, right? I remember going to a weird camp, and the first friends I had and I were so nervous about our first kiss that we all ended up practicing on each other by the campfire.
It wasn’t weird at all.
So why make it weird now?
I got some good pointers.
I smile to myself.
“Something funny, Mary-Belle?” Mr. Dekker asks from up front.
My head jerks up. “No, no, sir.”
He grunts, which he does so often I’ve started counting them over the past month. Last week he grunted seventeen times in forty minutes. I think it’s his either nervous tick or annoying tick. He’s completely bald, wears tiny glasses, and I swear the same suit every single day, or maybe he’s the type to just buy ten of the same thing to keep things simple.
Either way, I think he hates his job.
“Now,” Mr. Dekker grunts again. And that’s number three. “Tessa Andrew, after completing her community college degree, went on to Ivy League, and her schedule cleared up so she’ll be volunteering here for the last month of school, getting experience for her degree, and doing work for the school that’s desperately needed. She’ll also be one of the TAs during summer school, so if you’re one of the unfortunate people who fail your senior year, you’ll have her to look forward to.”