Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
“That’s…personal.” I grimaced.
“Same answer.” Silence. Then, “Jesus, look at you. You’re shivering.” He dumped his bag on the ground, slid his jacket off his shoulders, and wrapped it around me, even though I already had on a big, puffy coat. His jacket oozed warmth that seeped right into my bones.
“You can’t do that. You only have a shirt on,” I protested, only to have him rip the beanie from his head and slam it over mine, rolling it down.
“Here, that’s better.” He said that because my face was covered all the way. Bastard.
“You’ll be cold.” I pushed the beanie up, blinking at him.
“Don’t worry about me.”
“Someone needs to.”
“Yeah, well, no one did, and I turned out just fine.”
It was ridiculous, but I knew arguing would bring us nowhere—he was a Taurus, for crying out loud—so I quickened my pace. He shoved his hands into his front pockets. He had a leather messenger bag slung across his shoulder. Pink stained his high cheekbones. He looked like fan art of a fantasy villain.
I dug my teeth into my lower lip, dying to know what had made snooty, bitchy Allison worthy of being his ex-girlfriend—other than the banal stuff, like how she was a knockout, smart, ambitious, and had a killer wardrobe and, oh, an actual career.
“Those brain wheels of yours are a little rusty,” Row muttered, still staring ahead. “I can hear them turning all the way from here.”
“Let’s trade info,” I bargained. “I’ll tell you about my injury, and you’ll tell me about your relationship with Allison.”
“That desperate for gossip, huh?” He chuckled humorlessly, but I could tell he wanted to hear my story.
“You never had a girlfriend growing up.” I shrugged defensively. “I’m interested to know what made her different.”
“At the price of telling me something you haven’t shared with anyone?”
I swallowed. “Secrets are burdensome. Maybe I want you to carry some of my baggage.” Maybe I’ve been wanting to tell McMonster for a while now.
“Will you carry some of mine?”
I nodded, not breaking eye contact. I didn’t know why, but I really, really wanted to carry some of his baggage. Even if it meant showing him the most embarrassing, scarred part of me in return. Maybe if he knew what I’d gone through, he would understand why I didn’t do relationships.
“So what do you say?” I held my breath for his answer.
He halted his steps, turning his head toward the other side of the residential street. “Hey, wasn’t that your hangout spot?”
I swiveled to follow his line of sight and saw we were on the edge of Staindrop’s community park. A lousy excuse for a playground. Two slides, two swings, one seesaw, and monkey bars. In high school, Dylan and I had come here in the summers to drink and gossip.
“A slice of heaven,” I said breathlessly, my cheeks stinging with a smile. I twisted my head to face him. “Detour? For old times’ sake?”
I couldn’t read his face in the dark, but I thought I heard him smile. “Heaven better buckle up.” He treaded in that direction, giving me his back. “Because the devil’s about to drop in for a visit.”
CAL
“What’s Up?”—4 Non Blondes
I discarded my backpack on the ground, rushing toward the swings. I grabbed the frosty chains and planted one foot over the rubber seat, hoisting myself up, finding my balance, then started rocking my body, creating momentum. “Now all that’s missing is a stolen bottle of your dad’s Tito’s!” I howled into the night, a cloud of condensation rolling through my lips.
Row sighed like a wary parent, producing a bottle of vodka from his messenger bag and raising it between us. I wasn’t sure whether he’d planned this or if it was just another item to add to my evidence file that he was an alcoholic. First, shaking hands, now this.
“Ambrose Rhett Casablancas!” I shrieked, beaming in delight. “You knew our darkest secret?”
“That was a secret?” He scowled. “I’ve met thongs more discreet than you two.”
Row trudged toward me, holding the vodka bottle by its neck. He perched on the swing next to mine and cracked the bottle open, taking a swig and passing it to me. I sat down and took a gulp, kicking my feet to sway back and forth.
I squinted at the mountains draped by the night. Suddenly, I had the distinct feeling I was in exactly the right place, at the right time, with the right person. A tiny part of a trillion-piece puzzle that neatly fit into this universe.
“So.” Row received the bottle from me, unscrewed the vodka cap, sipped, then handed it back to me. “Start from the beginning. What happened that made you stop running and swear off humans?” He swished the clear liquid in his mouth. “Who did this to you?”
“Sure you want to find out?”
“How else would I know who to kill?”