Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“Why do you still look at me like I’m a lowlife slut?”
He opens his lips, then shuts them with a growl. “I … I don’t think that about you.” He eyes me. “You just have a weird chip on your shoulder about love, and I don’t get it.”
“A weird chip? That’s what you call it?”
“Mom and Dad weren’t good examples, fine, I get that. But ever since what’s-his-name dumped you back in high school, you act like no one deserves your love anymore.”
“That’s not how I act.”
“Tell that to the big guy in the mirror. Any of these mirrors will do, this place has a hundred and ten of ‘em.”
I come up to Kent. I want to bark out obscenities and tell him to shove it. I want to smack that know-it-all look straight off of his face and tell him he’s wrong.
Instead, I softly ask, “How else am I supposed to look at love? Dad ran away when it got rough.”
“He also came crawling back. Several times.”
“Maybe you were right. Maybe I … just like to break other people’s hearts to spare getting mine broken again.”
“You let what’s-his-name have too much power over you, even though he’s long gone. The whole point of love is to be scared shitless of being hurt. You open yourself up, let someone else inside, and hope they don’t spill wine on your carpet.”
I see Quin in front of me all over again, that adorably startled look in his eyes, his parted lips, and the wine he just spilled all over my Elysian Seaside Resort robe. The way he clutched my arms, hanging on, frozen in place, aghast at what he’d just done.
The last thing on my mind that night was the accident.
All I knew were his warm brown eyes desperately searching mine.
His fingers curling as he clung to me like a cliff.
The tiny breaths that escaped his pillowy, parted lips as he waited for me to react.
I should’ve kissed him right there.
“You don’t even need to bring a gift,” says Kent.
I snap out of my thoughts. “What?”
“To the beach party thing. Tomorrow. Just coming will be gift enough. Forget everything I said about love, it’s not important to change your mind about anything. I just want us to be okay. With dad in town, I kinda feel like we need to be okay, you and I.”
After a second, I nod. “Yeah, we’re okay.”
“Are we?”
“Yeah.” I put a hand on his shoulder, thinking I might go in for a hug, then settle on giving him an awkward little shaking. “Gotta find Quin. Merry-Go-Round, apparently.”
“Yikes. Is he a twelve-year-old, by chance?”
“Shut up.” I give him a playful shove. “Tomorrow, see you at the house.”
“See you, bro.”
I leave the Siren’s Revenge feeling strangely light. Things might not be perfect with Kent, but at least they’re better, and I’ll take that for now. I feel bad that I forgot Skip’s birthday. Despite what Kent says, I have to get Skip a present. But what do I get him?
I arrive at the Merry-Go-Round, but after watching the contraption of colorful seahorses rotate three full times, I still see no sign of Quin anywhere. He’s not in the line waiting his turn, either.
Is the guy playing games with me?
Is this some kind of sick boy-toy scavenger hunt?
What the hell is going on here?
Someone takes hold of my arm and quickly turns me around, startling me.
It’s Quin in a t-shirt, shorts, and sandals, his brown hair messy from the wind and his eyes sparkling happily in the fair lights.
“We gotta hide.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Say what?”
He drags me off without another word. I nearly catch my own foot and trip as he pulls me through crowds of screaming children and laughter, but Quin’s determined, and before I’m even able to draw half a breath, the two of us are tucked away in an alley between a utility closet and a set of bathrooms.
That’s when he rounds on me. “Tell me everything.”
I stare at him. “Tell you what?”
“Why does everyone on this island think you’re about to crush my heart into pieces?”
Chapter 11 - Quintin
My legs dangle over the edge of the three-foot half-wall I’m sitting on right by the entrance to the small arena theater. Adrian leans against the wall next to me with his arms folded over his big chest, a sullen look on his face.
“So that’s it?” I ask in the silence, the noise of the fair seeming far away, wind in our hair. “That’s everything?”
“Yeah.”
I frown. “Your high school crush broke your heart, and now you—”
“I’m not proud of the reputation I have,” he goes on. “I didn’t even realize I was getting one until it was too late. Then I figured, alright, if the island is so desperate to have someone they can label as the playboy of the town, fine, I’ll fill that role, whatever. Not like I have a say in what others think of me anyway.”