Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Chapter 5
Carter
Feeling awkward for one of the first times in my life, I rub my hand against my pants. The sight of her jerking away from me fills me with unease. Did she think I was going to force myself on her? I don’t need to do that. I’m not into those power games. Sure, I like to be in control but the only people I’m exerting my will over are those who have agreed to it beforehand. When you step onto the field wearing helmets and pads, you’ve consented to my domination. My teammates know this and so do my opponents.
A casual? Never.
My stomach churns thinking about anyone hurting her like this. Appetite gone, I toss my taco onto the plate.
“What’s wrong?” she asks. “Did I burn the taco shell?” There’s a piece of lettuce sticking out of the corner of her mouth. By all rights I should think this is gross but it only looks cute. Clearly, I’m losing my mind.
“Not hungry,” I growl.
I turn away and start to clean up but there isn’t much of a mess to keep me occupied. After wiping down the counters and washing the pan, all I can do is wait for her to finish eating so I can clean the bowls. I fold my arms across my chest and watch her gobble down her fourth taco like she hasn’t eaten in three weeks.
“How old are you?”
She pauses mid-bite. “Old?” she asks like that’s a foreign word.
“You graduate from high school?”
Her mouth moves but no sound comes out. That’s a no then and it looks like she doesn’t lie readily. I give her a quick once-over. She’s not wearing any makeup and I know that the girls at school can look older if they have it on but she doesn’t have the look of a nervous freshman so I’m guessing she’s a senior like me, which means she dropped out just a few months before her graduation. What was so bad about her circumstances that she decided leaving school at this point was a better option than sticking it out for her diploma?
“You’re in your last semester and you drop out. Why? How’re you gonna get a job?” I ask bluntly, wondering how well she thought this plan out.
“I’m working out those details,” she replies with her chin out.
“What are you running from?” Or maybe it’s who?
“I’m exploring the world.”
“Okay. Where did you come from?”
Her mouth slams shut.
“I didn’t realize your past itinerary was a secret.”
“Well, it is.”
Resisting the urge to pinch her chin, I curl my fingers into a fist at my side. Direct questioning is getting me nowhere. I’m going to have to think of a new plan.
I toss the sponge onto the counter in front of her. “Clean up when you’re done. Plates and cups are all dishwasher safe. You can sleep on the sofa. I’ll get you some sheets.”
I start down the hall when her smart ass quips, “What, you’re not going to offer me your bed?”
“No, because you’d say you don’t want to use it and I’m not interested in arguing. Besides, my bed is comfortable and I like sleeping there.” Another time, I would’ve invited her to sleep in it with me, but I know from her earlier reaction that she expects that kind of abuse.
“So are you like the hired help here? And if so can I have a job?”
“No and no.” I pull some sheets down out of the closet, grab a blanket and a pillow, and return to the main living area. Besides the high-end kitchen my mom installed, there’s also a giant sectional big enough to sleep three grown men and two large overstuffed chairs facing a woodburning fireplace and an eighty-inch television. I throw the bedding down onto the sofa. “What do you do then? Just go to class?”
“Yup.”
“What a straight arrow.” The words are mocking but the tone sounds envious.
“I know what I want.”
“And that is?” She’s off the stool now, cleaning up.
“Football.”
“You sound confident.”
“Why shouldn’t I be? What’s the point of doing anything if I’m not good at it?”
She finishes stuffing all the dirty dishes into the dishwasher before coming over to stand near the sectional—out of arm’s length from me. She’s wary, making sure there’s always an obstacle between her and me.
Unwillingly, an ache develops in my chest over what must’ve happened to make her the way she is. I clear my throat and try to swallow down that sympathy. My life doesn’t have room for the waif. I can feed her tonight and give her some money in the morning, but then she needs to be gone. I shove aside the way that thought makes me feel empty and snap out a few directions. “The bathroom’s down the hall. Use what you want. The doors and windows have alarms on them so if you try to leave, sirens will go off and if the sirens go off, the police will be here within five minutes. Whatever you do, if you decide to escape tonight, make sure you can get away from here in five minutes.”