Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 130221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Hunter is Kade’s identical twin, but he’s not a Pirate. He was, but now he’s a Knight. He transferred to our other rival school last year—he and Kade never got along, and I guess he just needed distance. He lives closer to Chicago with their grandfather.
Dylan peels off her wet hoodie and puts on the dry one. “Hunter has forgotten we exist,” she says. “You should be worried about Kade.”
“When am I not worried about Kade?” I slip my arms through the backpack.
She doesn’t know I was just texting him, but we both get the message. Kade looks for any reason to fight. He revels in it, and he doesn’t much care that he constantly stresses me out.
A honk sounds outside, and I jerk my head.
“Relax.” Dylan pulls on the hoodie as we both peer out the garage door windows. “It’s just Noah.”
“Like that’s going to make me relax.”
Noah Van der Berg idles out at the curb, straddling his motorcycle, a custom, top-of-the-line piece of machinery built by his dad and brother as a gift to him when he signed to be on Jared’s racing team.
The guy is super nice, like being dashing is his fucking job.
I glare. Jared is the most high-strung, rage-infused, alpha male I know. Worse than my dad. How can he let a twenty-two-year-old blond with a six-pack sleep across the hall from his daughter?
Dylan laughs under her breath, dropping her voice into a pouty little coo. “Aw, poor Hawke, having such an attractive cousin like me,” she teases, not taking my concern seriously. And then she rolls her eyes, “Not everyone wants to have sex with me. Lighten up.”
Whatever.
She pulls open the door and saunters out to her new housemate in the rain. I guess I should be thankful. He was nice enough to pick her up and save me the trip of taking her back home.
He’s like a brother. Yeah. That’s what a brother would do. It’s fine.
But I scowl as I watch him drive off with my cousin.
A second later, Aro comes to stand next to me. “The Garmin on her wrist,” she says, looking out the window with me. “Does she know she’s being tracked?”
My face falls. Fuck.
The only person who recognized my Christmas present to Dylan last year—and that it does a lot more than just count your steps—was my dad.
Aro glances at me. “You’re funny.”
And then she turns, walking away.
Aro
I grab the helmet his cousin wore and fit it onto my head as he slips on a leather jacket. I try to look away, but I keep glancing back, watching him zip it up.
Funny. I don’t know what I meant by that. He’s not funny. He’s…
A hypocrite. It’s fine to break the law as long as it serves his purpose. Crime isn’t a choice when he does it. Then…it’s justified.
Yeah, he’s funny all right. Funny how he thinks his rules apply to everyone but him. That makes him no different than any other privileged Falls kid I’ve ever met.
But there is a little something different. He’s harder to anticipate than I thought he’d be. With people like Dylan Trent and Kade Caruthers, they’re easier to read. They want people to know them.
Hawke is purposely cold. Rigid. And not just with me. He keeps his guard up. I noticed it last night when his cousins and friends showed up. He takes the lead with everyone.
He climbs on the bike, pulls on his helmet, and starts the engine, not even bothering to look over his shoulder to signal that I’m invited before hitting the remote and opening the garage door. I swing my leg over the bike, climbing on behind him.
“Won’t people recognize the motorcycle?” I ask, reaching behind me to grab hold of the safety bar.
But it isn’t there.
He kicks the bike into gear, it jumps, and I grapple for his jacket just as he speeds out of the garage. Asshole.
We turn right, and for a moment it feels like I’m going to fall as I press my boots into the rests. I grip the leather at the back of his jacket in my fists, leaning forward but not too much. I don’t like that I have to touch him, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like it either.
We ride, the town still not fully awake on a Saturday morning, and I kind of like it. Obviously, we don’t want to be seen, but I like early mornings. You feel like you have the world to yourself in a way you don’t at night. It’s different when the day is starting rather than ending. As if something is about to happen.
He skids to a halt, putting his feet down on the ground to steady us as the light turns red above. We wait at the stoplight, the cool rain welcome on my hands and neck because it’s hot already.