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)
Out of nowhere, a message box pops up on my screen. It’s from Dean’s Facebook account. Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to make it seem like I was blaming you about Friday night. I know how things are for you right now.
I glance away from my screen, but nothing about his expression or posture would give away the fact that he just sent me that message. It’s fine. And I’ll try to show up next time, I promise. Don’t be pissed at me?
You’re not the one I’m pissed at. So he’s not going to let it go. I know there’s stuff you don’t want to say, and that’s okay. I get it. You want to keep things private. But if somebody is hurting you, you can tell me. You know that, right?
No, I don’t know that. We hardly know each other at all. It’s nice that he wants to be friends, and I could see us even dating if the planets aligned and I could actually have a private life. I get the feeling he kind of likes me, and it’s nice. It feels good. But I’m not trying to lead him on, either, when I have no idea how I would even begin to navigate that situation.
Nobody is hurting me. That’s the truth. I hit enter before looking over at him from across the tops of our screens. His eyes move back and forth, and he nods slightly before glancing up at me.
So you’re safe? You’re not afraid or anything?
Not even a little bit, I reply, then I add a smiley emoji to make sure he understands. My dad is really strict. Zeke is only trying to do his job and make sure I’m safe. We’re trying to work things out and kind of compromise. But it’s a little shaky.
That’s good. So your dad trusts that guy?
Posey and Zoe are talking about something, and I know I should be paying attention, but for some reason, it seems important to convince Dean he has nothing to worry about. A hundred percent, and I do, too. As I said, we’re working it out. Things should be easier from now on.
I hope so, he replies. I don’t want to have to kick that guy’s ass for you. But I’ll do it.
It’s almost cute that he thinks he could. Dean isn’t scrawny—not even close. He has a muscular build, but it’s more athletic, whereas Zeke has been working in security in one way or another for years. He’s been training with that in mind all this time. His body isn’t built for sprinting down a field or swimming faster than everybody else. He’s built to bruise, to break. To eliminate, maybe, but I can’t imagine a situation like that ever coming up.
He’s built for a lot of other things. Heat creeps up my neck and threatens to spread over my face. There’s new warmth in my pussy, too, and I’m starting to get wet right here in the middle of class. Not now. I can’t think about this right now. I’ll have to wait until later when I’m alone.
Thanks. I don’t think it will come to that, but I appreciate it. Believe me, none of this is worth fighting over.
Says you, he replies. Remember. I’m always here, anytime. Day or night. And if you need help, say the word. I look up to find him watching me, wearing a tiny smile. I smile back. It’s nice knowing somebody cares that much. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like somebody actually cares about me for me. Not because it’s their job or because they feel obligated the way Dad does. And not because Dean wants to own me, either. It’s just because he likes me.
“What the fuck are you smiling about?” Zeke mutters after class when I reach him in the back of the room. It’s the first actual sentence he’s uttered since that night. I should’ve known it would have something to do with Dean.
“Why does it have to be any of your business? And hi, I’m glad to know your voice still works.”
He stares around me in Dean’s direction. I nudge him. “Could you stop? Please. This is ridiculous.”
“I don’t like that guy.”
“Yes, I know. You’ve made that clear. But I don’t remember asking for your opinion, either. Come on.” I give him another nudge, this time trying to direct him toward the door. The rest of the class is moving around us, oblivious. Zeke has kind of blended in now. Everybody expects to see us together.
He won’t stop staring across the room—and what’s worse, when I look over my shoulder, I see Dean staring right back. For a second, I can’t help but think he would be dangerous in the right—or wrong—situation. When he realizes I’m looking, though, that feeling goes away along with the cold look in his eyes. Like I imagined it in the first place.