Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
It’s all built on bullshit, but I’ve never cared. After all, high school boys—even ultra-rich private school high school boys—are, well, high school boys. Yuck. Lame, handsy, arrogant, cocky with nothing to back it up, and honestly not attractive to me in the slightest.
…All of them, that is, except one. And that one is starting to become a real, real problem.
His name is Beckett Truman, and he’s as much a god of this school as I am. Maybe even more so. Blond, the kind of blue eyes that make a girl’s knees get wobbly, the kind of chiseled jaw that makes her forget how to talk, and the kind of arms that make her panties get very, very wet. He’s the star quarterback for the Raiders, Winchester’s division-dominating football team. He’s popular, he’s smart, he’s beautiful, and as if all that wasn’t enough to make him the undisputed king of the cool kids, he lives off campus, with his older adoptive brother Porter, an alumnus of Winchester who just started as our newest Math and Statistics professor.
The problem has been building for months, and it’s coming to a head I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep covered. See, as King and Queen of the school, everyone else assumes we’ve either already hooked up, or that it’s an inevitability. Me with my bullshit backstory as too-cool-for-school temptress, and his very real exotic background of a British billionaire father and a Russian model/actress of a mother.
The old me might have figured out a way to set up a new “arrangement” with Beckett. But that was the old me. And the new me? Well, the new me has a big, big problem.
…The new me wants him.
Badly. Horribly. Achingly. And for the very first time in my life, I think I may have met my match. That and I’m now a victim of my own fake backstory. Beckett Truman is a god. And I’m just a fake. Sure, I could just throw myself at him, and as the queen bee of school, there’s no way he’d say no. But, then what? I’ve never actually done much of anything with a guy, since it’s all been lies. What happens when the hottest stud in school takes me to bed and realizes I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing? My whole reputation and this seductress persona I’ve built up for myself would all come crashing down.
We move in the same circles, and we talk here and there, but that’s it. So for now, I just sit, and I watch him. Tonight, quite literally, because Beckett Truman just walked into the very party I’ve snuck out of the dorms to get into, along with Ramona and Kara from the cheer squad. Kara’s older brother Justin, nine years out of Winchester himself, is temporarily renting a house on the water the town over from the school. Naturally, parties thrown by guys ten years older than me is exactly where the Kempton everyone knows should be. But seeing Beckett walk in is little bit of a surprise. After all, he might be king of the school and the star quarterback, and alpha as all hell. But he’s not the type to be caught drinking at some big party off campus during the season. Even if he does live off campus.
“Have you seriously not hooked up with him yet?”
I scowl, as I yank my eyes away from the blond-haired, model-hot quarterback nodding his perfect chin at someone across the room. I turn back to Kara, still scowling.
“What?”
She rolls her eyes. “Beck Truman. Mellissa Cruz swears she heard that you fucked him after the first home game this year.”
I shake my head. “Melissa Cruz is a skank and a liar.”
Part of me rolls my eyes inside. I don’t know why I’m so vehemently denying this. The old me would have found a way to say “yeah, I rocked his world and he’ll never be the same” before finding out a way to secure him backing me up on that story. But the new me is too, well, smitten, I guess I have to call it. Too wrapped up in my own fantasies of him. Too wanting him all to myself to be part of rumors concerning him and I casually hooking up.
Ramona flashes me a friendly smile and touches my arm. Kara is the drama-hungry clinger, but Ramona is actually a real person of substance. She’s in the popular crowd, but she’s not “all in” like I am. She’s also in the marching band, and in Winchester’s model government club. Popular and gorgeous, but probably the most likely at school to be a lawyer or politician.
“Hey, it’s just school bullshit. Don’t let it get to you.”
That may be the case, and I know she means well, but there’s one thing that Ramona doesn’t know. And that’s that deep down, I freaking want Beckett Truman. Deep down, I’m may be a little obsessed with him. Those blond locks, those blue eyes. Those arms that look like they were made for picking me up and throwing me around. The way I can even get a glimpse of what he’ll look like grown up, since Porter, his twenty-seven-year-old adoptive brother and our new Math teacher, just looks like an older, just as hot version of him, even if Porter was adopted.