Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
“Huh?”
“You heard me. Are you trying to make me miserable? Save your breath, okay? I know how lucky I am. You don’t need to remind me.”
“That’s not what I was trying to do.”
“Right. Because you’ve never rubbed it in, how lucky I am. How I don’t have any room to complain about anything in my life.”
She’s got a good memory. I’ll give her that much. I have given her a lot of shit in the past when she’s being a brat and acting like it’s so painful and inconvenient having somebody devoted completely to making sure she’s safe. “I wasn’t trying to rub it in, either. And it does affect me since I’ll be following you around all over the place. Sue me for wanting to know if I was going to get to hear anything interesting.”
Her lips twitch a little like she’s trying not to smile. “It’s all pretty basic stuff, intro to this and that.”
“So long as you don’t expect me to do classwork for you.”
She finally sets down her phone. “Are you seriously going to come to my classes with me? Like, isn’t it enough to sit outside the room?”
“I don’t make the rules. I only follow them.”
“But that’s embarrassing. Isn’t it embarrassing to you?”
I don’t know if she’s deliberately trying to get under my skin or if she’s sincerely asking because she wants to know. “Why would I be embarrassed?” I finally grunt, wishing traffic would clear up so I can get moving faster again. At least then, I might have a reason to ignore her.
“I mean, having to sit through classes with me? All because somebody told you to?”
“It’s my job. Would you ask a professor if they were embarrassed because they had to stand in front of the room and teach you things? It’s what they get paid to do. Same thing for me.”
I glance her way in the mirror. “Besides, there are lots of rich kids who go to this school. I’m sure you won’t be the only one—and even if you are, they’ll be used to seeing bodyguards around. It only seems weird to you because you’re not used to it yet.”
“Is that supposed to be an insult?”
“Why are you so hell-bent on taking everything I say as an insult? No, I said it because it’s the truth. You didn’t grow up the way these kids did, so it only seems strange to you. What’s so wrong about that?”
She folds her arms, staring out the window. “You made it sound like an insult. Like you looked down on me.”
“Trust me. If I look down on you, it doesn’t have anything to do with the way you grew up.”
“So you do look down on me.”
“Jesus Christ, Mia. Can we not?” I ask through gritted teeth. “You’re giving me a fucking headache.”
“Whatever.” She huffs and turns her head toward the window with the cutest little pout on her lips.
She spends the next twenty minutes grumbling and muttering to herself, and I’m perfectly fine with letting her do that so long as it means not having to have a discussion. Just when I start feeling sorry for her a little, she finds a way to make me hate her.
She spends so much time acting like I don’t exist that it surprises me when she raises her voice. “Can we stop here at this gas station?”
“We’re only twenty minutes from campus. Can you wait?”
“No. I have to go right now. Please?” It’s the please that tips me off. She’s never this nice unless there’s something she wants. Something more serious than having to piss.
I should probably floor the gas pedal and blow right past the station, but now I’m curious. “Yeah, okay. Just don’t take too long.”
I pull in in front of the store, past the gas pumps, and park. When I open the door, prepared to follow her inside, Mia clicks her tongue. “Are you going to follow me into the restroom, too?”
“Should I?”
“That’s going to look weird to the guy behind the counter.” She looks through the window, and I see the kid working the register. He can’t be much older than her. “It’ll look like you’re, like, my pimp or something. Or my trafficker.”
I almost blurt out a laugh until I realize she’s serious. “Quit stalling and get in there. I thought you were in a hurry.”
“I’m not stalling. But I think it would look better if you hang out here.” I roll my eyes, which only makes her grunt in frustration. “Fine. Come in, stand outside the bathroom door with that look you get on your face when you’re trying to act all threatening. I’m sure it’ll look totally legit.”
“Fine, already. Just go.” It’s not worth arguing—besides, she has a point, not that I would ever admit it to her. I do have my pride.