Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
“How did your date go?” he asked, sounding surly.
And, just because I was still pissed that he’d turned me down for a date to my brother’s wedding, I decided that he didn’t need to know anything about my night with Laric.
Except, I couldn’t stop my mouth from working.
From spewing lies.
“It was great,” I chirped, feeling like a lying McLiarson. “We went out to eat, we had a great time, but the butterflies make it almost impossible to eat when you’re on a date with a great guy. So I was hungry.”
The lies just flowed so easily.
“We’re going out again after Saturday. He said something about taking me on a bike run next week.” I said.
That’s what made his eyes narrow dangerously.
Laric had mentioned a run that he and his friends were going on with their girls next week, but I hadn’t been invited.
He hadn’t even hinted at inviting me.
But something wicked had come over me. Something that told me I should say it just to see his reaction.
And oh… my... God. What a reaction it was.
He stiffened hard at my words, his body turning woodenly so that he could stare at me with his full field of view.
Then he said, “Excuse me?”
“Uhh,” I hesitated. “What?”
“You’re going on a run?” he asked carefully.
“If that’s the thing y’all are doing next weekend, he mentioned it, yes,” I told him the truth.
Stick to the truth, and hopefully he wouldn’t spot the lie.
I’d expected a reaction out of him. But not that kind of reaction.
Not the kind of reaction where I was thinking he was going to go up to Laric and punch his daylights out.
Jesus.
“Is he now?” he asked carefully. “You ever been on a bike before that wasn’t mine?”
Why was he asking?
“Ummm,” I hesitated. “No.”
Which was kind of the truth.
When I was sixteen, I got on a kid’s dirt bike with him. But that kid had been eleven, so I didn’t think that was what Zach was asking.
He slowly shifted his bag of food, his hands clenching in the plastic instead of holding onto the little handles.
“You have feelings for Laric?” he asked carefully.
I thought about Laric. About how sexy he was, and how he’d made me laugh more than a couple of times tonight.
“He’s attractive.” I shrugged, wondering what he would say to that.
I shouldn’t have been surprised to find him saying nothing.
Of course.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because Laric is looking for permanent,” Zach said. “Something that’ll help keep his head above water.”
I frowned. “What’s that mean?”
“That means that you have enough on your plate. You really shouldn’t be adding Laric’s helping to yours,” he replied.
I had no clue what the hell that meant.
What I did know was that I didn’t like that Zach was telling me who I could and couldn’t date.
I mean, if he wasn’t going to make a move, then why shouldn’t I find someone that was willing to?
Then again, as Murphy would say, maybe I should take the bull by the horns.
But I did, didn’t I? I invited him to the wedding, and he’d said no.
I mean, what more could I say or do to make it obvious that I wanted something to do with him?
I wasn’t the most outgoing of people.
I’d literally had sex with one person, and that was kind of an experimental thing, anyway.
A childhood friend and I had made the mutual decision to see what sex was all about.
And, let me tell you, it wasn’t about all that much.
From that point forward, I hadn’t really wanted to explore anything more in the sex department.
At least, not until a certain inmate had walked into my corner store and made me want things I’d never wanted before in my life.
“Well, you have fun at that wedding,” he said, looking as if he’d swallowed a bottle of lemon juice. “Let me know if you need anything.”
And with his abrupt exit came an irrational surge of anger on my end.
Why had he even asked?
And he damn well knew that I wouldn’t be having a good time.
Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t. I couldn’t have a good time when there were people like my father and stepmother attending.
CHAPTER 9
I love my curves. My tattoos. My imperfections, and my jiggly thighs. No one said you had to.
-Crockett to a customer
CROCKETT
I was running so damn late.
The sad thing was, I didn’t even have a good excuse for why I was running late.
I just was.
Mostly, it was due to the fact that I didn’t want to go to my own brother’s wedding. Because going to the wedding meant that I would have to see my family.
Family that either didn’t care enough about me to check on me—my mother’s side of the family that lived a couple of hours away—or chose my father when there were sides chosen—my father’s side, which included nearly all of my father’s immediate family.