Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 86052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
His brows furrow, and something tightens behind his eyes. “Uhh, no offense, but no,” he says with a scoff. Unease blasts through me as my heart starts to race, and seeing the alarm on my face, he throws his hands up as a show of innocence. “Woah. No, girl. I just mean, it’s nearly three in the morning. The bar is not somewhere you should be going at this time of night. Besides, it’s probably closed.”
I let out a small breath, which turns into a soft laugh, unsure why I like his response so much. “I didn’t mean that I wanted to go party,” I clarify, unable to quit grinning like an idiot. “I live in the apartment above Micky’s.”
“Oh,” he breathes, understanding flashing in those dark eyes. “Well, I guess I can drop you there.”
“Shit,” I laugh, shaking my head as he hits the gas. “What kind of a girl do you think I am?”
“Honestly, I’ve got no fucking idea,” he tells me, a smirk playing on his lips. But I guess I deserve that. Showing up at an illegal underground fighting ring really doesn’t really make me out as a good girl. “I kind of got the impression that wasn’t really your scene.”
“Not even a little bit,” I scoff, before realizing that I might have just offended him. After all, that clearly was his scene. “Shit, I, ahh, don’t mean any offense by that. It’s just, I’m more of a hang out at places that won’t get me thrown in jail kind of girl, and by that, I mean I don’t ever get out.”
He laughs as he peels out of the parking lot and into the deserted street, the crowd now long gone. “Don’t stress. I get it,” he tells me. “But it leaves me wondering how the fuck you ended up there.”
I let out a sigh. “That girl I was with, Lex,” I start. “She’s sort of the only girl I’ve met since I’ve been here, and she insisted I get out and have a good time. You know, meet new people and all that,” I say with a shrug, rolling my eyes at just how stupid I was. “I kind of figured that meant we were going to a club or a party. I don’t know, something like that. I mean, how the hell was I supposed to know she was taking me to some bullshit illegal fight club to set me up with a possible rapist who has no understanding of boundaries?”
“Shit,” he laughs. “It’s really not your night.”
“You can say that again,” I murmur before looking up at him and studying his face. “I guess it was a good night for you, though, Mr. Widow Marker,” I say with a grin, watching the way he rolls his eyes at that ridiculous name. “Tell me you didn’t come up with that name yourself?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Shit, it really is that bad, huh?” he laughs. “If I had a say in it, it wouldn’t be something so lame.”
I lift my brows, finding it so easy to tease him. “Right. Whatever you say.”
He rolls his eyes, and I can’t help but notice the way those eyes are so perfectly lit up. It’s like Christmas morning. Not that I’ve ever really experienced a good one before. “For what it’s worth,” he says with a cocky grin before pulling an envelope out of his jacket pocket and holding it up between two fingers. “Won myself five grand.”
My jaw drops, never having seen that much cash in all my life. “WHAT? Five grand? Holy shit. No wonder you can afford a truck like this,” I exclaim, forgetting to filter the words that come flying out of my mouth. My eyes widen in horror, realizing just how rude that was. “Shit, sorry. That’s really none of my business.”
He laughs, his lips still pulled wide into a cocky grin that’s doing wicked things to me. “Don’t worry about it. That was actually my first fight, which makes this my first payday,” he declares proudly as he stuffs the envelope back in his pocket. His tone changes as he continues. “The truck, however, was a gift from my parents. Just another way to buy me off.”
“Oh,” I murmur, suddenly seeing the truck through new eyes and realizing this guy has some ghosts of his own. I desperately want to pry and find out as much information about him as I can, but who am I to ask?
“So, you’re a student at Denver?” he asks, moving right along.
“No, not exactly,” I say, really not knowing how to explain it, but also not wanting to go into my life story right now. “But as of next week, I’ll be a sort of student.”
He glances at me as he flies down the street, curiosity flashing in his eyes. “A sort of student? The hell is that supposed to mean?”