Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Uh-huh. For all his talk about values and what he will or will not tolerate, I’m fairly confident it’s a bunch of bullshit. During my research, I managed to peek at some faculty records. Near as I can tell, it’s impossible to get kicked out of Sandover. So Tresscott can say what he wants about rules and responsibility, but I know better. Whatever infractions these Sandover boys commit are nothing enough zeros can’t solve. Mommy and Daddy cut another check, and all’s forgotten. It’s the oldest truth there is—wealth is immune to consequences.
“Let’s level with each other, yeah?” The thing I hate most about rich people and those that surround them is all the polite pretension. “I didn’t ask to be here and wasn’t given a choice. I don’t plan on being a pain in your ass. If that changes…”
Tresscott watches me carefully.
“Well, we’re only upright animals in fancy clothes, right? Can’t fight the forces of nature.”
“No,” he says, picking up his cup and saucer again. “I suppose not.”
“So can I go now?”
“One last thing. Are you an athlete, Mr. Shaw? I didn’t see any sports in your transcripts.”
“Not my thing, no.” Since freshman year, various coaches have hounded me to try out for one thing or another. Always telling me I’ve got the build for it. But team activities aren’t my jam. Forced camaraderie is my worst nightmare, and I’ve heard enough locker room horror stories to prefer to meet my hazing in the daylight.
“You’ll have to enroll in phys ed, then,” he informs me. “It provides a rotation throughout the semester in several athletics.”
Great. That’s going to be a problem. I’ll need to see what I can do about opting into something solitary. Track, maybe. I’m a decent runner. At home, I used to run all the time. It started with having to get out of the house when Mom brought her boyfriends around and closed her bedroom door, but eventually it became a habit. A couple miles at first, then longer distances. It helps me clear my head.
After Tresscott lets me go, I wander the grounds for a while, finding the marked trails around the outskirts of the campus that wind through the surrounding forest. It’s nearly dark and I don’t want to be stumbling around trying to find my way back to the dorm after sunset, so I start back in that direction when I notice a narrow dirt path disappearing deep into the trees. It’s unmarked and looks less worn by foot traffic than the other routes, which instantly sparks my interest. I decide I’ve got enough time for a quick pitstop. A hundred yards in or so, there’s an old flowerbed overgrown with weeds; right beyond it is a wooden bench in the center of a small clearing.
It’s not a bad place to have a smoke and I waste no time rolling a quick joint. Sitting on the bench with my legs stretched out in front of me, I inhale a deep drag and try to decompress for a minute.
I’m used to upheaval. After five schools in three years, you either learn resiliency or find yourself disappearing beneath the waves. It feels like I’ve been treading water my whole life, but, hell, if nothing else, it’s taught me I can count on myself. There’s no need for me to rely on anyone else, because at the end of the day, I’m the only one who has my back. And whatever comes, I’ve always got another move.
A rustling noise jars me from my thoughts, shifting my attention in the direction of it. I hear the racing footsteps battering the dead leaves and dry grass just before she comes around the bend. A leggy chick with dark hair tied up in a sweaty knot. She nearly runs past me before jerking her head and sliding to a halt.
“Hey,” I say lightly.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she huffs out, hands on her hips and chest heaving to catch her breath.
“Yeah. I keep telling them that.”
Her cropped T-shirt hangs off one shoulder. My eyes get trapped tracing her ass in a pair of tiny running shorts that cling to her sweat-slick skin. This girl is so hot it almost hurts to look at her. And it’s not just the smoke-show body. Her complexion, even coated with a sheen of sweat, is totally flawless, incandescent, the type of skin you see in makeup ads. Her dark-gray eyes are framed by full, thick lashes, and her lips have that cupid’s bow thing going on, that sexy curve that puts all sorts of dirty ideas in my head.
I don’t know which scenario is more appealing—having those lips pressed against mine in a hot kiss or wrapped around my dick while I come on her tongue.
Annnd, shit, I need to banish those thoughts ASAP, before she notices my jeans are looking a bit too tight all of a sudden.