Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 118125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
“There are other elective classes besides Iseya’s,” Rian hissed, coloring hotly. “Take wood shop, if you hate my class that much.”
“Not about to lose a finger. Those circular saws got teeth, yo.” Valdez grinned unrepentantly. “And you let me nap. It ain’t that deep, fam.”
With a deep sigh, Rian dropped his face into his palm, fingers digging in at his hairline. “...go see Mr. Iseya.”
“Which one?” Valdez retorted flippantly, grin never wavering.
“The guidance counselor,” Rian muttered.
“Oh.” Valdez’s grin wavered. “Am I in trouble?”
“No.” With an exasperated sound, Rian lifted his head, eyeing Valdez tiredly, hazel eyes dull. “Go find an elective you’ll actually enjoy, Merry. I’m not going to make you suffer through mine if it puts you to sleep.” He pursed his lips. “And could you at least try to watch your language in front of staff?”
“Sure. I can try.” Utterly irrepressible, Valdez just smiled wider, utterly unfazed by Rian’s apparent disgust. “Can I go now?”
Rian just flicked his fingers toward the door with a hopeless, unintelligible sound.
Valdez laughed.
And bounced to his feet, scooping up his backpack and making for the door like his ass was on fire.
“Later, Mr. Falwell, Mr. Louis!”
Rian’s only answer was a despairing grunt.
While Damon turned his head to watch the door swing shut, raising his brows. “So...that looked like it stung.”
“Shut up,” Rian mumbled, bowing his head and rubbing his fingers to his temples.
Damon frowned, shifting his gaze back to Rian. “Was that really necessary, kicking the kid out of your class just because he hurt your ego?”
A spluttering, furious little noise escaped Rian’s lips. He snapped his head up, loose wisps of hair arcing and flaring around his face, and glared at Damon with his color high and his eyes sparking like guttering golden candles. “I wasn’t kicking him out over my ego! He just—” The tiny growl he let out was less menacing and more kittenish. “If he didn’t want to be in my class, I had no intention of forcing him to stay.”
“Didn’t really give him much choice,” Damon said. “You don’t gotta control everything, Falwell.”
That glare crackled hotter, and Rian dropped his hands to his sides, fingers clenching up into tensed fists. “I wasn’t trying to control—I—just shut up.”
“Yeah. Sure. Not trying to control anything. No reason you were hissing at me for opening my damned mouth before you gave me permission,” Damon snarled, and pushed away from the desk. Fuck this. “Pointless of me to be here, anyway. That didn’t help shit. Chris isn’t dating anyone, isn’t up to any shit after school. Guess you got an audience, though.”
He stalked away from Rian, toward the door, only for sharp words to fling at his back.
“So sorry I didn’t hit that one out of the park,” Rian threw at him sardonically. “I tried. I tried, all right? Do you want Chris to realize we’ve figured out something is wrong, and just get better at hiding before we can help him?”
With a sigh, Damon forced himself to stop just in front of the open door, gripping the frame. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe we’re building this all up in our heads.” He tightened his hold, the weathered wood smooth against his palm, little rough spots biting. “Then again, maybe not. You knew they’d been sneaking weed?”
“They’re teenage boys. Weed is as ubiquitous as ceramic dicks. So?” Rian retorted sullenly.
“So?”
“I would rather have them in their rooms, relaxed and sleepy with a relentless craving for Cheetos, than out drinking or having unprotected sex or experimenting with harder drugs,” Rian retorted firmly. “So yes, I looked the other way. There’s little way to stop them, anyway. Everyone has an older brother who’ll sneak them a bag, no matter how much we confiscate.”
Damon ground his teeth, forcing himself to look back at that haughty expression, that absolutely insufferably imperious way Rian had of lofting his brows. “And you didn’t think to mention this might have something to do with Chris?”
“I’ve never seen him sneaking anything, so no.” Rian jerked one shoulder in a tense shrug. “And I thought you’d know if he failed a drug screening for team play. That is mandatory for high school sports now, isn’t it?”
“Doesn’t mean they don’t cheat it.”
“Does Chris,” Rian said primly, “seem like the kind of boy who goes around begging for cups of untainted urine, Damon?”
Damon blinked.
Stared into Rian’s tightly irritated face, his mouth drawn in a thin line of disapproval.
And burst into laughter.
He couldn’t help himself. Damon’s chest ached with it, his entire body shaking roughly as he pressed a hand over his sternum and tried to get his wheezing under control.
Jesus Christ, Rian Falwell was something else.
“What,” Rian bit off icily, “is so fucking amusing?”
“I don’t—you—I can’t—” Damon coughed, his eyes stinging, before he managed to take in a deep breath, straightening and doing his best to mimic Rian’s haughtily offended tone as he parroted back, “‘Does Chris seem like the kind of boy who goes around begging for cups of untainted urine, Damon?’”