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)
I don’t think I’ve ever resented Zeke the way I do now. Not even at the party when he made a big scene of dragging me out like he owns me. It was one thing when I was actually going against his rules, but now he’s dictating my decisions without lifting a finger. He’s in my head.
“No, you know what? If you want to get together tonight or sometime this weekend, I’ll make it work.” I’m not going to be the poor, pitiful girl everybody feels sorry for. And I’m not going to let Zeke rule my decisions.
Dean’s eyes light up. “Yeah? What do you think?” He looks at the girls, both of whom shrug.
“I guess so. I could hang out for an hour or two.” Posey looks at Zoe, who nods and tries to look disinterested. I can tell she’s anything but. She’s barely stopped looking at Dean since he sat down.
“Awesome. Ten o’clock? I’ll send you all my address.” We exchange contact info, and with each passing second, my determination strengthens. I’m not going to spend all my time here talking to people over a computer. I can’t live my whole life locked up.
Once class is dismissed, Dean winks at me. “Let me know if you need any help getting out tonight. I could always come over and talk to Frankenstein for you.”
“Thanks, but I have it handled.” He really is cute, and he’s pretty nice, too. I mean, only a real idiot would think all he wants to do is talk about school stuff, but I don’t care. That’s not all I’m here for. I’m not trying to lose my virginity to this guy or anything, but drinking and flirting is another story.
“What the fuck was that?” Zeke growls over the top of my head when I meet him at the back of the room. I can only imagine he’s looking at Dean. “Who’s that asshole?”
“He’s part of my study group. God, relax.”
“I saw the way he was looking at you.”
“Good for you. I guess you don’t need glasses yet. Your eyes are working just fine.” I make it a point to speed walk away from the desks to the end of the hall and down the steps. He has no choice but to follow me, which means he can’t hang around and start trouble with Dean.
“You know he doesn’t give a shit about sociology, right? That’s not what he wants to study.”
“Would you get over it? We’re doing a group project, the way everybody else is. Jesus, you’d think this was the Middle Ages or some shit. Like I’m not allowed to talk to any males except for you and maybe my professors.” He only growls again, muttering under his breath. There’s no need to ask him to repeat himself, and honestly, I don’t care.
I’m going out tonight. I’m going to live like a normal person.
Now, all I have to do is figure out how to make that happen.
11
ZEKE
She’s up to something.
Here’s the thing about Mia: she’s a smart girl. Very smart. She pulled good grades in high school, even when her life was shit, and she takes her schoolwork seriously now, too. When she’s not studying in her room, she brings her stuff out to the living room so she can have the TV on while she’s going over her classwork. She’s not screwing around online, either—I try to be subtle, but I check on her from time to time, and she’s always typing a report or reading her digital textbooks.
The problem with smart people is sometimes they think they’re smarter than they are. They might get a little full of themselves and assume they can get away with anything because they’re too clever to get caught. If anything, that makes my job easier, the way she practically broadcasts every thought she’s having.
And that means I have to play it smart, too. I’ve never played chess, and I wonder if this is what it’s like. Trying to figure out her next move and how I’ll counter that move.
When I reach the apartment after finishing my workout at the gym downstairs, it’s obvious something’s brewing. For one thing, she’s in the kitchen, making a ton of noise. I creep through the living room after taking off my trainers, making sure to stay silent. It’s like the old days, doing jobs for the boss. Making sure I go unheard as I stalk through the darkness.
Only I never had to sneak up on a girl cooking dinner.
She doesn’t notice me at first, too busy listening to whatever’s playing through her earbuds. Considering the way her head bobs up and down, it’s music, not one of the podcasts she follows. Something with a good beat, too. She’s at the stove, stirring something that smells like onions and garlic. My stomach growls. Just call me Pavlov’s dog. One of the things I learned about in Mia’s psych class.