Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 48601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
“Excuse me?” I hiss, blushing fiercely. Less than twelve—no, less than nine—hours ago, those smugly smiling lips were kissing me like I’ve never even imagined being kissed. And I swear I can still feel them bruising my mouth. I can still taste them. I shiver, swallowing thickly.
…I can also, unfortunately, still feel the sting in my palm from smacking him.
“You heard me,” Jamison grins.
I blush furiously and glance down at my shirt.
Goddamnit.
“I need to go change.”
“I’ll soak it, c’mon.”
Marta beckons, giving Jamison a dirty look before she waves me over. “C’mon hon, laundry room.”
I glare at Jamison again, feeling vindicated that he’s managed to piss off Marta too as I follow her out. In the laundry room, I unbutton my school blouse, shrugging it off my arms when Marta plucks it away.
“Here, let me soak that.”
“Marta, I can—”
“Yeah,” she arches a brow, smiling at me. “But so can I.”
I give her a look.
“I’m perfectly capable of taking a stain out of my—”
“Yeah, honey, I know.” She smiles. “But, I’m better?”
I snort a laugh as she smiles and takes the shirt.
“Now go get some eggs while they’re hot, or before that brother of yours scarfs them down.”
“Not my brother.”
She shrugs and I glance around the laundry room, grabbing a tank top and yanking it on. I’ll grab another uniform-approved blouse before I go to school. I head back to the kitchen, ignoring Jamison as I get some breakfast and more coffee and settle at the breakfast nook booth and open the newspaper. He slides in across from me, but I just go on ignoring him.
“How was brushing your teeth?”
I glance up, smiling sweetly.
“Whatever you had planned, I got a new brush.”
He nods, stroking the scruff on his jaw.
“Good call.”
I smile, looking back at the paper.
“Unless I anticipated your suspicion, left your regular brush alone, and fucked with the one in the package before resealing it with glue.”
My face falls as I glance up at him, my stomach knotting.
“What did you—”
“I’m just saying, if you start to feel nauseous, you should probably get to a bathroom ASAP.”
I hiss at him, jumping from my seat and rushing for the sink, my finger plunging into my throat before the sound of his laughter stops me. I whirl, glaring at him.
“You didn’t do anything to any of my toothbrushes, did you.”
“Nope, that’s amateur shit.”
I glare at him.
“What are you planning then?”
“That would severely defeat the purpose of a prank war, Moaner.”
“Can you just tell—”
“No.”
He smiles across the table at me.
“Anyways, gotta get to school.”
He starts to get up, but he lingers, his eyes sweeping over me.
“Love the new look, by the way,” he growls. I just blush and cross my arms over my chest as he chuckles and gets up.
“Eyes open today, Moaner,” he says from the kitchen doorway, glancing back at me. “You never know what I’ve got planned.”
***
On that much, we can agree. Because I spend basically the entire day on edge, looking over my shoulder, and generally being as paranoid as humanly possible that at any moment, something awful is going to drop on me, or jump out at me, or get stuck to me. It’s so bad that I can barely concentrate in class, just anticipating the unexpected from him.
I mean, he wouldn’t do anything that wild. At least, I don’t think he would. But then, I did seriously fuck up his car. Like, really, really fucked it up. I popped my head into the garage and glanced at it before I drove to school, today, and my stomach dropped at the sight. The two back windows and back windshield are smashed out completely, and the front windshield is smashed to pieces. Not to mention, the entire inside is coated in purple latex paint. I have no idea what I was going for, but a paint nuke wasn’t it. I make a mental note to write a warning comment on the YouTube video that totted the idea as a “fun prank.”
I mean, Jesus, I’m lucky I didn’t kill one of them, even if I sort of wanted to at least maim Melissa.
Eventually, during the day, I end up seeing her, and it does take more effort than I wish it did to hide the giggle and the grin on my face. Her blonde hair is tinged taupe now, with thick purple highlights. Honestly it looks pretty cool, but not to a girl like Melissa Cruz. She spots me, and instantly, her face darkens as she marches up to me.
“Ramona!” she hisses as I turn, and pretend I didn’t see her walking up to me in the hallway.
I swallow as I turn, acting surprised.
“Hey! Melissa, I’m—”
“Was it you?!”
I blink, swallowing again. “Pardon?”
“Did you rig up that… that explosive device!?”
I frown. “I mean, it was just paint, Melissa—”
“Did you?!”
There’s this shrillness to her voice, and it’s so loud that most people around us stop to turn and stare. And with those crazy eyes she’s got right now, suddenly, I’m kind of glad to be surrounded by, you know, witnesses.