Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Don’t cry. Not over this.
Save your tears for the things that matter.
Like Catrina. Like the other friends I left behind in Golden.
The pep talk doesn’t work. Two hot trails make their way down my face as I take off, speed walking toward school.
I hate Wolf Ridge. I really do.
I make it to the first major intersection and check the time on my phone as I wait for the light.
Gah. I’m definitely going to be late.
“Hey!” An old Subaru wagon pulls over to the curb and the back door opens. “Did you miss the bus, too?” A scrawny girl with bleach-blonde hair punked out in all directions calls out. I’ve seen her on my bus and around school. She’s an underclassman, so we don’t have classes together, but she’s familiar.
“Yeah.” I tense, prepared for another insult.
“Get in. My mom will take us.”
Her mom beckons impatiently. She has bleached stringy hair and prematurely aged skin of someone who drinks and smokes too much. The car reeks of cigarettes.
Relief and gratitude still slam into me like a tidal wave as I slide in the back seat. “Thanks. I was afraid I’d be late.”
“I already called the school to complain about that damn bus driver,” her mom rants from the front seat. “It’s bullshit. They can’t just show up when they feel like it. They’re supposed to stick to a schedule!”
I murmur my agreement.
“I’m Rayne.” The girl turns in the seat to study me. Her blue eyes are huge in her small, heart-shaped face and her nose is pierced.
I decide instantly that I like her. “Bailey.”
“I know,” she says, reinforcing my impression that I’m not actually invisible at Wolf Ridge High. I’m being actively shunned.
My gut clenches.
“Thanks for stopping,” I say. “Cole Muchmore outright refused to take me.” I don’t know why I say it. I’m not one to complain and I usually keep my thoughts to myself, but I’m getting freaking desperate for someone to talk to.
Rayne rolls her eyes. “Cole is an alpha-hole, like all the other ballers.”
I let out a puff of laughter. “I can’t argue with that.”
Alpha-hole. It’s a perfect description for him.
Well, he can go fuck himself. I won’t be crying over his lack of courtesy.
Guys like him do absolutely nothing for me.
We get to school on time and climb out of the Subaru. The kids getting off the bus stop to stare at us.
“What?” I demand out loud.
I swear, you’d think I was some sort of green-skinned alien from outer space.
Rayne flips them off and grabs my elbow. “Ignore them. They all do whatever the alpha-holes say like freaking minions.”
“Wait… What do the alpha-holes say?”
Rayne looks away, pink staining her pale cheeks. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. This is our school, too.”
Huh.
Whatever that means. I let it drop. I don’t need to alienate the only person who’s willing to be nice to me.
“Thanks for stopping. And for talking to me. I’ve been seriously losing my mind here. I thought maybe all the kids were robots like in this old movie my mom made me watch where the men had all killed their wives and exchanged them with robot replacements.”
Rayne’s impish face breaks into a huge smile. She holds up her palm like she’s swearing an oath. “Not a robot.” She lifts her chin at all the kids streaming into the school who are craning their necks to ogle us. “They might be though.”
Cole
I slide into my chair in journalism a few seconds after the bell rings. Of course the human—the bitch who moved next door—already sits at her desk beside me, chit-chatting with the teacher like a suck-up. I catch a whiff of her cinnamon and honey scent as I sit and my balls tighten.
“Nerd patrol,” I mutter as Mr. Brumgard walks away from her desk. I heard she’s taking Advanced Placement English online, and she’s using this class as an elective. Double English credits. Fucking whack-job.
She fumbles her pen—probably because I rattled her—and it clatters to the ground. My buddy Austin automatically reaches to pick it up, then catches my glare and realizes who it belongs to. He straightens without retrieving it.
Good. The king of Wolf Ridge High still rules. No one will talk to Bailey, much less help her, unless I lift my ban on it. I give it another month and she’ll transfer to a school where her kind belong.
She leans into the aisle to get it, but I kick it away, forcing her to lose her balance and fall halfway out of her seat, balanced on one hand. I get a flash of bare thigh as her mini-dress rides up and a low growl rises in my throat.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I don’t get hot for her kind.
Miss Perfect in those little dresses and skull Chucks. I glare in her direction, willing my attraction for her to die. Unfortunately, the way her breasts stretch the front of her polka dot mini-dress today gets me hard. Which makes me hate her even more.