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)
No one deserves him.
I tip my head back, whimpering. Why did I tell him to hook up with someone? I should’ve stayed. Vetted her, whoever it was, because I know what he’s like, and I can help. There’s no point in him wasting his time on someone like Schuyler again.
The door in the roof creaks open, and I look up, seeing his long legs descend.
Shit.
I bolt up, move left and then right, see the PlayStation controller and grab it, unpausing the game I was playing earlier.
“Oh, come on!” I shout before I even move my character, but he can’t see the TV from that angle anyway, so whatever. “Oh, you bastard!”
I punch the button, zoning in on the screen, but I notice his every move as he climbs down the staircase. Long black shorts, sneakers, no shirt….
I move, jerking my body right and getting my character into his car. “No, go faster,” I blurt out, glancing up. “Hey.”
He doesn’t stop or look at me, though. He simply passes by the couch, and my stomach twists as he opens the fridge door and then closes it.
“Now, go get the bag of money,” I yell at the TV.
I’m sure he can see through me. Like I haven’t been in the hideout obsessing about what he’s doing, where, and with whom.
It’s fine, though. He’s safe. That’s all that matters.
He wasn’t with Green Street. He wasn’t with the cops.
He was…with a girl. Cool.
I rage drive, the tips of my fingers charged and my thumb jerking the joy stick. Barreling though the city streets, I purposely side-swipe cars parked on the curb and then skid around the corner.
“Whipping the controller around doesn’t make your character go any faster,” Hawke tells me.
Yes, it does.
But I don’t respond out loud. Now that I know he’s safe, and he’s talking to me, I’m going to let him wonder what I’ve been up to instead, having a fine time here without him.
“Turn right,” he tells me.
He drops into the seat next to me, laying his head back, and I keep wanting to look at him out of the corner of my eye to check for hickeys or lipstick, but I don’t care. And if he corrects me again, I’m gonna hit him.
“Raising the controller in the air isn’t going to help you climb the stairs faster, Aro.”
“Shut up.”
“Use the knobs and buttons.” He launches over and grabs for my controller, but I scoot away, breaking into a laugh. “You’re wasting valuable energy,” he shouts.
“I promise I’ll live.”
“Aro…” He reaches for me.
“No!” I pull away.
But he loses patience and picks me up, controller and all, and hauls me over into his lap. I laugh, steering like I’m driving a car as he wraps an arm around my waist, holding me tight.
“Just stay still,” he orders. “That’s always your problem. You get too worked up too fast. Use the damn buttons.”
I play, moving in his lap, leaning and jerking, and he rests back against the couch, taking a swig of his beer.
The scent of whiskey drifts through the air, but he doesn’t seem drunk enough for all the time he’s had in the seven hours since I left him. He wasn’t drinking for all that time.
I swallow, entering the club to go get my money. “So?” I broach.
“So, what?”
I hit the buttons, keeping my eyes ahead. “Who was it?”
I keep my voice light and gentle, fighting to sound like Kade or his other friends if they were asking him about his sex life.
“Schuyler,” he finally says.
I get shot on screen, and I shudder, feeling it.
“And?”
He’s quiet for a moment and then, “You really want to hear this?”
God, I want to puke. “Yeah,” I chirp, steering my controller and trying to sound extra chipper. “If you want to tell me, that is. I need to live the teenage dream vicariously.”
I smile, laughing under my breath, and I want to punch myself. Why am I doing this? I don’t want to know.
But I need to.
His voice is quiet and raspy. “We went into the shower.”
I square my shoulders, feigning interest in the game. “Did she wash you?”
“No, I washed her.”
He looked at her. Touched her. Didn’t think about anything else, did he? Nothing.
“With your hands or a cloth?” I ask him.
“With my hands.”
I blink away the images in my head. “Did you like it?”
He breathes out a laugh and takes a drink. “I was a lot more relaxed this time.”
Oh, fucking awesome. “Yeah, you’re welcome,” I spit out.
I’m really glad I could help you work through some of your hang-ups.
I punch the buttons, fighting to keep the scowl off my face. Why did it have to be her? Thinking about her gloating at their college campus earlier in the day and making sure I know that the two of them will be all on their own this fall, partying and screwing like animals… Goddammit.