Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Yep.”
She smirks. “Daddy bought you a fancy phone, huh? Someone must’ve been a good boy,” she says teasingly.
“I—What?” I retract my phone. “No, it’s just—”
“Sounds like Sean-boy’s got himself a sugar daddy,” SJ pitches in with a nudge into Lily’s ribs. “I wish I had someone spoiling me like that.”
“I’m paying him back for it,” I interject.
But they don’t hear me. “I’m still rocking my same old phone from high school,” mumbles Lily as she sets a pair of bowls on the counter. “I could use an upgrade.”
“Dude, you should take advantage of that situationship while you’re in it,” says SJ, giving his unasked-for advice. “Get a nice wardrobe for your modeling gigs. Some bling, maybe. Get him to set you up a modeling website. If you really work him good, maybe you can get a car out of it.”
Lily cackles. “SJ, stop! You’re so bad.”
“Hey, just saying, it’s what I’d do. Is this guy loaded?”
“Seriously, SJ!” But Lily herself can’t stop laughing.
“Sean can take a little humor,” SJ insists. “Besides, it’s him who’s taking off his clothes in front of cameras. Isn’t he basically halfway to doing porn?”
“It isn’t porn! What the hell?” cries Lily through her tears of laughter.
“Nah, I’m just playing. But really, you’re lying if you say people won’t get off lookin’ at his hot pics. I popped a semi just watching you guys work and I’m straight.” Lily keeps going back and forth between cackling and gasping. She can barely get a word in. “When you’ve got the looks, why not bank on them? Be the trophy boyfriend. Milk that lonely Coop guy for all he’s worth. Hell, I’d do it if I didn’t look like a wrung-out mop.”
I stare at them as they continue to go back and forth like I’m not even here. I don’t know when I do it, but I slip my phone back into my pocket, ashamed of it suddenly.
It’s ten minutes later while walking through the dimly-lit parking lot in front of the dorms that Vann growls out the words, “I could’ve fucking killed him.”
I blink. “What do you mean?”
“I am so sorry, Sean.”
“For what?”
“I should’ve stood up for you in there. I should’ve said something. I should’ve—”
“Oh. No, no. Don’t worry about it.”
“Really, I should have. SJ is messed up and immature and terrible. I knew that already. He makes comments in class just to shock everyone. But I expected so much more from Lily other than standing by and laughing with him.”
“It’s okay,” I assure Vann. “I guess I … told them a bit too much about my personal life. Cooper and all of that.”
“So? That doesn’t give them any right to—”
“And it’s late. It’s been a long day of shooting for both of them. I was their last model. I think they were just, like, tired and blowing off steam, being funny, whatever. Maybe they had a point.” I shrug and hug myself as we walk. “I … I’m making money with my looks.”
“Seriously, Sean? Don’t even go there.”
I look at Vann. “Are you mad at me?”
He stops. “You? No, Sean, I’m not mad at you. I’m … fucking furious those two even put these thoughts into your head, as if you’re nothing more than a prostitute. What the hell is wrong with them?”
“They don’t know my situation. It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not.” He sighs. “You’re too forgiving, Sean. And I … I should have said something.”
He resumes walking.
I follow.
We arrive at his bike after a while. He hands me the spare helmet, then puts on his own. It’s while strapping on my helmet that I catch Vann sneaking a glance at me.
Actually, not me; the ugly boomerang scar on my arm.
“Knife wound,” I say, answering his question.
He meets my eyes, caught. “Oh. Sorry.”
“For staring? It’s fine, no biggie. You’ve probably seen it before and wondered. If it helps, just assume everything went wrong one Thanksgiving when I was trying to carve a turkey for my sweet family and got myself this keepsake. It makes the scar cuter, when you make up a story.” I resume strapping on my helmet.
Vann’s frozen. “Really. I’m sorry for … not standing up for you in there. And for staring just now. I have noticed the scar and just … never asked.”
“You don’t have to be sorry for anything. It’s just … a little scar from my past,” I say with an inward smile.
He comes up to the bike, then stops, appearing to think for a moment. “Y’know … we all have pasts. Toby used to be pushed around by a cocky jock at school and his loser stepdad at home. I was kicked out of schools through my teen years and shuffled around the country by my image-obsessed parents. Our friend Kelsey used to live on the streets of a casino town by the beach before a gay couple in Spruce adopted her and brought her into all our lives. None of us can say what life is like in anyone else’s shoes but our own.” He faces me. “But we should still respect each other’s scars just the same.”