Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“Me? You’re the one who threw yourself at me. I was just leaving. What are you doing hiding in their bushes? Stalking me again? I already told you, I don’t go for little girls like you.”
I wish I was stronger. Had more fight. I would take my closed fist and beat it against his nose. “For the record, turd breath, I was trying to find my house keys. I must have dropped them when I left earlier. I got home and didn’t have them.”
“Just ring your doorbell. Or do you not know how to do that?”
I open my mouth to explain. Tell him if I ring the bell and wake my dad, there’ll be consequences. The last time I lost my keys, I was home “sick” for two days because he didn’t want the school to see the bruises and suspect anything. I clamp my teeth and shake my head. “Wow, is that what I have to do? Thanks for the tip, genius. Now that I know, I’ll just be on my way.”
I grab my books and step off the Matthews’ front step when he calls for me. “Hey, wait up.”
“So you can knock me down again? No thanks.”
“No, wait. Why are you always here so late? I mean, isn’t it past your bedtime?”
I exhale a deep breath, too tired to deal with his crap. “Yep. Sure is. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to hurry home. My nighttime bottle is waiting.” I walk off, but for some reason, he runs after me. “Seriously? What do you want?”
“Same thing I want every time. Make sure you get home safe.”
I slam on my heels and turn to face him. “Cut the crap. What do you want?”
He stares back at me, trepidation in his eyes.
“Hello? Are you suddenly deaf?”
“I. . . I just want to. . . maybe I'm trying to—I want a truce.”
My brows shoot toward the sky. “A truce.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets and starts walking. I follow. “Yeah. A truce. Where we both try to get along.”
“Get along. . .” Have we entered some sort of alternate universe?
“I’m not speaking Spanish, Mak, yeah. I’m saying we should just get along. School’s almost out. And we have the whole summer. Figured we might as well not waste it.”
I think about his offer. I don’t trust it, but I don’t disagree with it either. Spending the whole summer in the same proximity and. . . getting along? “I mean. . . it isn’t the worst idea.”
He chuckles next to me. “Agreed. Not the worst.”
We walk in silence. It’s not until we’re crossing the street to my house that he breaks the silence. “So, what do you say, Duck—Mak? Think we can get along for the summer? If anything, we should do it for our friends. Just think how happy they would be not having to spend the last summer before all head off to school, listening to us at each other’s throats anymore?”
I smile at his comment. Like, smile. Ben Wallace just said something and made me smile.
“There’s that smile. So, do we have a deal?”
I step up on my front stoop, debating. Well, maybe stalling. I already know the answer. I pull my lower lip between my teeth and bite down. Inhaling a slow breath, I—
“Where the hell have you been?”
My head cocks back to see my father standing in the open doorway. My face pales. His cold stare moves from me to Ben, and my stomach drops. “Dad, I lost my key—”
“Get your ass in this house.” He grabs my arm, his fingers digging into my skin. “And you,” he cocks his head at Ben, “get the hell off my property.”
I don’t look back at Ben. I can’t. And I don’t have the chance either. Daddy pulls me into the house and slams the door. “Lost your key, my ass. You know what happens to little sluts who run around with older boys?”
“I wasn’t doing anything. I really lost my key—”
An open palm slaps against my face. I lose my balance and fall to the ground. “Disobedient girls get punished. You’re gonna learn to listen. . .”
I slowly awaken, stretching my arms over my head. Yawning, I go to scratch an itch on my nose, taking a mitten thump to the face. “Shit.” I open my eyes and am greeted by two stupid claw hands. “Ugh. Was hoping that was a bad dream.” I sit up, wincing at the burning in my thigh. Besides having partial usage of my hands and this whole thigh issue, not to mention I’m homeless and. . . well, everything-less, I have to say, I slept pretty well.
Ben has to be crazy to think this is a good idea. Not that it’s the worst idea. I won’t complain about getting an eyeful of him for the next forty-eight hours. We probably should have established better boundaries, though. Last night, shirtless, his hands grazing my skin as he undressed me, I was seconds away from throwing myself at him or passing out because I’d been holding my breath since the second he entered the room.