Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 103104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“Did she?”
I grin. “She followed me around for the rest of the year begging me to do it again.”
She narrows her eyes. “And you did.”
“Yeah, lots of times. First girlfriend I guess. By sixth grade, she moved away. Don’t know what ever happened to her. Nice girl.”
“Ah, the early, charmed love life of Fort Knox Grayson.”
I toss a fry at her. “When was yours?”
She mulls it over, and somehow I feel like I’ve done something wrong. It’s just a kiss question, which from me is ironic as hell considering I don’t even enjoy kissing on the lips anymore.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
She shakes her head. “No, it’s cool.” Looking down at her plate, she says, “I was maybe twelve, right before Tyler was born. I was in my room—we had an apartment then, with Tyler’s dad. It was a great room, though it was smaller than my dorm here, and I had posters of Taylor Swift and Katy Perry on the walls. I fancied myself a future pop star.” She inserts an eye roll. “Mama had gotten me this karaoke machine from the Goodwill and I was singing when Cooper came to tell me to shut it off.”
My hands clench. “Tyler’s dad?”
She nods. “Mama was trashed and had gone to bed earlier. I knew I shouldn’t have been up and making noise.” Her face pinches. “He was a tall man, burly and mean, but he thought he was handsome. He told me to go to bed and I hopped to it. He pulled the covers up, leaned down, and kissed me on the mouth…” Her voice trails off.
“You don’t have to—”
“No, I want to tell you. It helps, you know, in an odd way. Makes it real.” She sighs. “His breath smelled like cigarettes and liquor. He stuck his tongue in my mouth and his hands…they…I felt them trying to get under the covers.”
Revulsion creates goose bumps on my arms. I picture her, small and young and afraid.
She blinks rapidly. “I kneed him in the nuts and screamed my ass off. The walls were thin in that dump, and maybe he was scared Mama would get up or the neighbors would call the police, or maybe he just chickened out. Either way, he left the room. Honestly, living how we did, I was lucky nothing horrible ever happened to me, which is why the keg party is so frustrating. I protected myself all those years only to be helpless hanging out with a bunch of rich kids.” She plucks at her napkin. “All in all, it could have been worse with the things Mama did for extra cash. Since the moment she left us, all I’ve wanted is to dig myself out of where I came from and find my own way. Be independent, go to college, get a real job, take care of Tyler. Big dreams for a twelve-year-old.” She grimaces. “Dang, I kind of killed the conversation there. Sorry.”
The muscles in my shoulders have tensed, and I roll my head back and forth. Twelve. Fucking twelve years old.
“What happened to him?”
“Cooper? He and Mama left a few days after Tyler was born. Dumped us at the group home. Mama was Catholic, although she never took me to Mass. I owe the nuns for any religion I have. Those two leaving was the best thing that ever happened to us.” She waves her hands. “Topic change! I want to know about this rumor that you only have sex from behind.” She waggles her eyebrows and my body heats, tightening. “Well?”
“Who wants to look at my face?” I say the words lightly, but underneath…
“You’re beautiful,” she murmurs. “Hello, Tawny with the red claws—she was all over you yesterday.”
“I don’t want Tawny.” That ship sailed last year.
She shoots me a furtive look while she chews on a fry. “Oh? Who are you banging on the regular this school year, then?”
“No one.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Truly?”
I pick at my burger. Fucking tomatoes. “Yep.”
“But why? You’re…you, and everyone wants to be a bleacher girl—or so I’ve heard.”
I push my food away. “Saving myself.”
“For marriage? Waiting till you’re a middle-aged has-been who peaked in high school?” She chuckles.
“No.”
“Ah, I get it. Some lucky girl under the bleachers at the first game of senior year. Sweet. Good plan. Typical top Shark behavior. Anticipation…then wham bam, thank you ma’am! Drawing it out.”
A slow blush crawls up from my neck to my cheeks. I still don’t jive with her seeing me. “You gonna come spy on me? Don’t even try. This girl doesn’t do bleachers.”
“Ohhhhhhh, this is good.” She leans in over the table, pushing her plate aside. Turquoise eyes glisten with mirth. “Are you…are you a bit of a romantic, Fort Knox?”
I laugh. “What defines a romantic?”
“Secretly loves rom-coms, listens to moody songs about unrequited feelings, writes pretty love letters and leaves them in girls’ lockers.”