Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
After fourth hour, while everyone heads to lunch, I slip inside the bathroom and shutter myself in a stall. As my finger hovers over the button to flush the toilet, the bathroom door swings open and a couple of girls stroll in, their heels clicking against the penny round tile floor.
I’m not sure what makes me hesitate.
“God, I hate that bitch.”
Sloane.
I would recognize her voice anywhere. There’s something about her tone that makes me wonder if I’m the one being talked about. This place has made me paranoid.
“At least Kingsley isn’t hanging on her anymore,” someone chirps.
“He was never hanging on her,” Sloane snaps in a haughty tone. “He was fucking with her. There’s a difference.”
My shoulders sink with the realization that I’m not so paranoid after all. They are talking about me.
One of them snorts. “I’ll just bet he was.”
“Shut the hell up, Aubrey! Do you honestly think Kingsley would be interested in that ugly ass Hawthorne girl when he could have me?”
Ugly ass?
Ouch.
“Have you ever looked at her non-existent chest? There are zero boobs to speak of. It’s all flat.” A smirk fills her voice. “And Kingsley is most definitely a breast guy. He can’t get enough of mine.”
The thought of Kingsley touching Sloane the same way he touched me has nausea churning in the pit of my belly. I lay a hand over my lower abdomen to stymie the discomfort. Why can’t these girls leave me the hell alone? I’m not a threat to them. I want nothing to do with Kingsley or them.
“In fact, he stopped by last night,” she says with a giggle. “That boy is such a freak in the sheets.”
My throat closes until breathing becomes impossible.
Another girl laughs. “Please, slut, you love every minute of his kink.”
“Damn right I do,” she agrees smugly.
Someone pipes up with, “I heard she gave him a BJ.”
Is that idle gossip or did Kingsley brag about what we did together? A tiny piece of me clinging to the hope that the true Kingsley was the one from the beach and not the asshole from Hawthorne Prep crumbles and dies. Deep down I knew the truth but refused to admit it. Even to myself.
Especially to myself.
Now I have no other choice but to accept it.
A few girls rattle off sexual acts I supposedly engaged in. Not only with Kingsley, but several other boys. I’ve been here a little over two weeks and from the sound of it, I’ve really gotten around. It’s like they’re going out of their way to top the last sexual act mentioned with something more outrageous. All I can say is that these bitches get an F for creativity.
For fuck’s sake, if you’re going to claim I did something, at least make it interesting.
Fed up with the lies pouring from their mouths, I stab the button on the wall to flush the toilet. If they won’t leave, then I will. The moment water rushes down the drain, all of the laughter and chatter comes to an abrupt halt.
There’s no turning back now.
I suck in a breath, square my shoulders, and paste a pleasant smile on my face before unlatching the lock. All eyes are focused on the stall when the door swings open and I step out.
As soon as Sloane sees me, she scowls. “Well, well, well, speak of the ho.”
I force out a laugh. “Oh sweetheart, don’t worry, you’ll always be the frontrunner in that competition.”
Sloane’s eyes narrow as she advances on me. “You’re jealous that Kingsley is back where he belongs and isn’t slumming it with Hawthorne trash.”
“Hmmm.” I scrunch my nose and give her a thoughtful look. “What does that say about you for not being able to hold his interest in the first place?”
She sucks in a sharp breath as her hands tighten. “Why don’t you do us all a favor and shut your mouth before I make your life a living hell.”
“It’s much too late for that. My parents already beat you to the punch by moving us to this backwoods town filled with a bunch of inbred hicks.” I clear my throat and give her a pointed look.
“Who are you calling a hick?” she growls.
“I’m sorry, was I not clear?” There’s a pause before I force out the rest. “I’m calling you a backwoods hick.”
With a screech of outrage, she lunges. It’s almost a surprise when her body slams into mine. I stagger a few steps and my back hits the bathroom stall. Her fingers tangle through my thick hair, scraping against the scalp before giving it a vicious yank. Tears sting my eyes as I yelp, trying to peel her hands away, but it’s no use. She’s stronger than she looks.
“I hate you!” she shrieks.
We struggle as screams and grunts echo off the walls of the confined space. When she slams me against a tile wall, the air gets knocked from my lungs. All I know is that one moment she’s trying to pull my hair out by the roots and the next, she’s being dragged away. My breath comes out in short sharp pants as my heart thumps painfully against my chest.