Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“All right, man,” I mutter, rising to my feet. “I have to head to class.”
He blinks, ignoring me as he chews his eggs.
“I got a job. A fuckin’ teacher.” I let out a snort of disbelief. “I’d love to tell you it sucks, but it doesn’t. I like it. Pre-Calculus.”
Great, I’m fucking rambling.
His brown eyes travel my way. One eye droops slightly and I’m too afraid to ask the doctor if it’s permanent.
“Bitches are all over my nuts of course,” I continue, sounding like an idiot. “I can’t help it. I mean I’m already hot as fuck. But make me wear a tie? They never had a chance.”
Terrence blinks hard, studying my clothes. His brows pinch together and I can’t tell if it’s because he’s thinking or in pain. He picks up a carton of apple juice and sucks on the straw.
“I’ll see you after school.” I pick up his phone that’s charging beside the bed. “Text me if you need anything. Your grandma will be here soon.”
I give him a stupid wave that he doesn’t return.
Fuck.
I want my best friend back.
I’m in a pissy ass mood by the time I drop down into my desk chair just in time for first hour to begin. Kids are filing in, filling the room with incessant chattering. Heidi walks by, her hazel eyes immediately finding mine. She sets her stuff down and bounces over to my desk. Today she’s wearing jeans that may as well be painted on and a tight T-shirt that you can see her nipples through. I don’t have the energy for this girl today.
“I had a question on the homework,” she says, her voice too sweet and rehearsed.
“What?”
She doesn’t bristle at my tone. Instead, she stands closer to me, leaning in to show me something on her Chromebook. I glance over the problem and immediately find the error. Begrudgingly, I explain to her what she did wrong and how to fix it. Once we finish, she touches my shoulder.
“Thank you,” she murmurs. “And sorry about…you know. All the crap from before. I’ve just been going through some stuff.”
Aren’t we all?
“It’s fine,” I grunt out. “Take a seat. Bell’s about to ring.”
As she makes her way back to her seat, I glance over at Charlotte, expecting to see jealousy in her blue eyes. She’s not angry. No, my fucking girl is smiling at her phone as she texts.
Irritation slides through my veins like an infection, tainting every cell of my being. I had the worst weekend of my life and she’s happy.
I crack my neck and rise to my feet. The class grows quiet when I start writing on the board. My words come out clipped and angry as I explain a few problems. I eventually give them an assignment to work on while I stew on my anger.
My laptop dings with Charlotte’s submitted work. Of course it’s all correct. She’s back to texting. For a brief, irrational moment, I think of Wes.
Pervert fucking Wes.
She wouldn’t text with him. Fuck no.
Heidi raises her hand. I nod at her to approach. She makes her way back over to me, but my eyes are locked on Charlotte. I hate how fucking beautiful she is. It’s effortless. Like today, she’s wearing a light pink V-neck T-shirt that shows off her fine-ass tits and a pair of black yoga pants. Her blond hair is in messy beach waves that beg to be pulled and touched. It’s her lips I can’t seem to look away from. Pink and glossy. Full and juicy. Smiling. Sweet. Sexy.
“This is confusing,” Heidi says, pointing at the problem.
I reluctantly drag my gaze from Charlotte to help Heidi. Heidi touches my arm several times. Each time I watch to see if Charlotte notices. She doesn’t.
“Thanks, Mr. Hutton,” Heidi purrs before swaying her ass back to her seat.
No longer able to take it, I stand and stalk over to Charlotte. I hold out my palm.
“Give me your phone,” I demand.
Heidi laughs, earning a glare from Charlotte.
“Now,” I growl.
Charlotte scowls at me and slaps her phone into my hand. I walk back over to my seat to see what was so damn entertaining. I read through several recent texts between her and someone named Lo. Lo, a fucking guy, keeps sending her pictures with different styles of his hair.
Lo: What about this?
Lo: This makes me look hot, right?
Charlotte: Eh.
Lo: So hard to please, woman. Should I go green?
Charlotte: No, you’re perfect au naturel.
Lo: Black is boring.
Charlotte: Black is your hair color. Don’t change it.
Lo: You’d still love me if it were green?
Charlotte: Duh.
Lo: I miss you, baby. When are you going to leave that shit town and run away with me?
Charlotte: Tomorrow.
Lo: Fucking tease. Show me your boobs.
Charlotte: Don’t be gross.
Lo: We both know you’re the queen of nasty, baby.
My blood is boiling when I get to the end. Who the fuck is this guy? She loves him? She’s going to run away from him?