Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 155405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 777(@200wpm)___ 622(@250wpm)___ 518(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 777(@200wpm)___ 622(@250wpm)___ 518(@300wpm)
Fantastic.
A wave of foreboding washes over me as I reach the top step. Rather than move out of the way because he obviously saw me coming up the stairs, he deliberately blocks my path.
“Can you move?” I ask, halting on the top step.
“What’s the magic word?”
I’m too tired for his shit. “Don’t be an asshole,” I say flatly.
He smirks, stepping back so there’s enough room for me to step onto the landing. “Not in the mood to play, huh? You must have had a long day. A lot of people talking shit about your golddigging mom?”
I grind my teeth together and turn the corner without bothering to answer him.
He was clearly about to head downstairs, but now that I’m upstairs, he turns and follows me instead.
Great.
“I heard a few rumors myself. Might have contributed to a couple. When’s your mom due, by the way?”
“Look, I don’t really have the energy to deal with you right now,” I tell him, even knowing he won’t care.
“Did you hear the one where you invited me over?”
He doesn’t specify when, but I know when.
The night he broke into my goddamn house.
“Brittany didn’t like that one,” he says, as if letting me in on a secret. “Why’s she the one with a throatful of cum if you’re the one who can summon me with a text?”
I am simultaneously revolted and annoyed by what he just said. “Please stop talking.”
“Am I offending your virginal sensibilities—again?”
We’ve made it to my bedroom, but I can’t go inside because I don’t want him to follow me, so I stop outside the door and turn to huff at him. “What do you want, Landon?”
“You didn’t tell my dad I blew you off after school today, did you?”
“Nope.”
He smirks like my answer amuses him. “Look at you, doing my bidding without even having to be told. What a good girl.”
I give him a dead-eyed look. “Can I go now?”
He ignores the question and holds my gaze. “You didn’t come straight home. Who gave you a ride?”
“None of your business.”
His eyes narrow with dislike.
I smile. “Anything else?”
“It was Hannah, right?”
“Arden, actually,” I lie, just to watch his handsome features turn to granite. “Yeah, he saw me sitting by your spot all by myself—a poor, discarded damsel-in-distress—and thought he’d ride in on his big white horse and save me.”
“Bullshit,” he says, but I can see he’s not entirely certain I’m lying.
I smile suggestively. “It was quite a ride, too. He has a really big… horse.”
I must have taken it too far because the granite cracks and a faint smile tugs at his full lips. “You’re so fucking full of shit.”
“Maybe. You should text him and ask if I’m a screamer. In the meantime, I have homework to do, and you’re not allowed in my room, so…” I twist the doorknob behind me and slowly back into my bedroom.
He walks away, shaking his head.
I lock the door once it’s closed and sigh with relief that he went away so easily.
This time.
It was probably due to the fact that our parents are right at the bottom of the steps more than his basic sense of decency, but I’ll take what I can get.
___
It’s late by the time I get my homework finished.
Mom and Hayden are already in bed.
I lost track of time. I meant to go downstairs and get myself a cold bottle of water while they were still awake so I didn’t risk running into Landon—and if I did, there would be a buffer—but now I’ve missed my window, and my throat is dry.
I hate feeling so much dread at the notion of simply leaving the sanctuary of my bedroom to go downstairs and grab a drink from the fridge, but I’m like a little girl again, tiptoeing down the hall so as not to disturb the monsters that might live in the shadows.
I check each area before I enter, and when I make it to the kitchen, I feel like the winner of a board game Mom used to play with me when I was little.
Don’t wake Daddy.
I smile faintly at the memory, but my safety still feels tentative when I open the massive refrigerator and search for the bottled water.
Since I’m downstairs alone, I look around at my new home as I uncap the bottle and take a refreshing sip. It’s nothing like my old one.
Our old house was nice—nicer than we should have been able to afford—but it was a stripped-down model, lacking the high-end finishes and features the other houses in our neighborhood had. We were like paupers trying to blend in among the royals.
This house was built for a king.
I don’t know why a house needs ceilings so high. They make the place feel cavernous. It’s impeccably decorated, and I don’t think Hayden is a hobbyist interior designer, so he probably hired someone to do the job.