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)
“Am I in trouble?” the kid asked bluntly, slouching down in his seat at the center of the front-row work table.
“No,” Damon grunted, and Valdez immediately glanced at Rian, jerking his thumb at Damon.
“Then why’d you bring backup muscle?” he said. “I don’t even have P.E. this semester.”
Rian stood a few feet away from Damon, watching Valdez curiously. Today’s page from the Catalogue of Bohemian Fashion™ was a slim-fit, pale blue tank top paired with a completely see-through off-the-shoulder poncho that looked to be made out of an old trawling net, all diamonds of dark gray cord knotted with little periwinkle shells; the top cascaded down over those jeans that were more rips than denim, showing hints of smooth pale skin just shy of violating dress code, considering those rips started high up on Rian’s inner thighs, and Damon thought either there wasn’t any underwear under there or it was pretty microscopi—
Down, boy.
Why the hell was he even looking at Rian Falwell like that, anyway?
Including looking at the tall, slender column of his neck, bared today when for once Rian had bound the thick, cascading tangles of his hair up into a messy knot behind his head, dark locks sweeping back from his face and his throat flawless and enticing enough to make Damon want to leave a mark on it as dark and angry as the simmering feeling of frustration building up inside him for absolutely no fucking reason at all.
Why the hell was he on such a hair trigger today?
The answer to that question was currently watching Merry Valdez with a calm, pleasant smile, steepling his thin fingers together while Rian tilted his head as if picking out every word was of utmost importance.
“Mr. Louis is just here as part of school regulations,” he said smoothly. “Whenever we call students in for a conference, it’s recommended to have a witness to corroborate everything.” He dropped his voice from its rather officious tone to a more conspiratorial whisper, leaning forward a bit with his eyes glittering. “It’s called the cover-your-ass clause.”
Damon rolled his eyes.
While Valdez just let out a snort, his thin shoulders jerking inside the dark gray of his uniform coat. He had a sunny face, faintly mischievous, his brown skin smooth and his eyes slightly angled. “So whose ass you covering? Yours or mine?”
“Neither. I’m just minding my manners so Walden doesn’t take that stick out of his ass and use it to beat me,” Rian said, widening his eyes with mock solemnity. “I have to live with him, you know.”
Damon didn’t expect his own barking laugh, startled out of him sharply; Valdez echoed it, his slightly tense posture relaxing. Damon had to give it to Rian; he knew how to use that glib tongue to put the kids at ease, instead of lording over them as an authority figure.
And Valdez was much more casual as he spread his hands and said, “So what’s up? What’s the big show over, then?” He paused. “...you didn’t find out about the dicks, did you?”
Rian froze. “...what dicks...” he strained out.
Damon bit back his grin.
Oh, this was gonna be good.
“Nothing!” Valdez said quickly, his voice pitching up and squeaking at puberty pitch. “Nothing about any dicks! I didn’t say shi—anything about any damned dicks!”
Eyes narrowing, Rian leaned forward slowly, toward the worktable. “What. About. The. Dicks, Merry?”
Valdez winced. “...do-over?”
“No do-over,” Rian retorted. “Explain. Or this goes from a casual conversation to stand-off with hostage negotiations way faster than you’d like.”
“...hostages...?” Valdez strangled. “What’re you gonna...?”
“You think I don’t know about the little plastic bags you keep in your sock drawer?”
Valdez nearly went white, eyes opening so wide his eyelashes practically touched his eyebrows. “You got nothing! It’s legal in Massachusetts!”
“It’s legal for over twenty-one, you’re seventeen, and it’s banned on school grounds,” Rian said firmly. “I know who sold it to you, too. And who else he’s been selling to. So we can keep this friendly and I can look the other way with your harmless little habit, or you can keep refusing to tell me what. Damned. Dicks. And next thing you know, you’re the most unpopular boy in the school when they find out it’s your fault their supply got cut off.”
Damon stared at Rian.
He didn’t know if he was more horrified that apparently half the kids on campus were trading weed and he didn’t know about it...
...or that in the middle of this entire fucking conversation about dicks, his own was starting to twitch hard and hot at the sight of Rian with his cheeks flushed with irritation, mouth set in a stern and commanding line, eyes narrowed and glittering flinty with a challenge that said he wasn’t about to back down.
Think I’m gonna need a few minutes with Iseya, ’cause clearly I got some unexplored issues that need analyzing.