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)
“So was he a lost townie?”
“No, apparently he’s new.”
Although his major malfunction is yet to be determined. Most of them are the standard-issue rich delinquents showing up with aggressive alcoholism and untreated drug addictions. Whether my dad likes it or not, Sandover is the quiet, picturesque diversion program that keeps the hit-and-run drivers, bar fighters, dealers, and gamblers out of prison and the tabloids.
“But you were out there for a while.” In Casey’s imagination, the mundane moments of my life are somehow filled with scandal. “Didn’t you learn anything about him?”
“His name’s RJ. That’s about it. I didn’t stick around for his biography.”
Most people who know me would say I have a talent for being off-putting. I sort of pride myself on my ability to send boys running for their lives. I don’t know if this one was dumb or had a death wish, but he wasn’t budging.
“Initials are so mysterious,” Casey declares.
“If you say so.”
“Is he hot?”
“He’s not a hideous forest troll, I guess.”
On first impressions, sure, he was nice to look at. Fine. He was very nice to look at. Something about his hair reminded me of getting undressed. The way it looks after a guy pulls off his shirt. He had dark hair, too. I like guys with dark hair. And even with him sitting down, I could tell he was tall, his body ripped. I’m a big fan of those qualities too.
But that doesn’t mean I get all dewy eyed over every tall, dark, and handsome guy I come across. Especially when they have those up-to-no-good eyes. The ones that wink at you with a smile while they’re holding up a bank. Getting mixed up with another bad boy is not part of my senior plan.
“Coming from you, that’s a huge compliment,” Casey accuses. “Admit it, you think he’s hot.”
“I said he’s not hideous.”
“Come on, you can do it. Tell me you think he’s hot.” My sister is clearly enjoying watching me squirm.
“Oh my God. He’s hot. There. Happy now?”
She smiles smugly. “Quite.”
“You’re such a brat.”
“Takes one to know one,” she says in a singsong voice, and I promptly give her the finger.
“Honestly, I’m more interested in why I haven’t heard of him yet,” I admit, more to myself than her, as I lay down on the floor with my foam roller to work out some tightness in my legs. “Who is this guy? Where’d he come from? Who’s his family, you know? It’s like he fell out of the sky. Something about him… He was kind of insufferable, but not with the same smarmy, over-indulged ego of most of those pricks. It was like his own special concoction of irritating.”
Casey crawls to the end of the bed, peering over the edge so she can see my face. “Those are a lot of questions for someone who said she’s swearing off boys this year.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m trying to date him. He’s an unknown. You know me, I don’t like question marks.”
Guys around here like to sneak up on you with those charming smiles and lying white teeth. They possess just enough breeding and manners to get your guard down, but really, they’re wolves in designer jeans. And I’m nobody’s mark.
“I don’t know…” She bites her lip at me. I don’t like it when her wheels start turning. “Sounds to me like he got under your skin maybe.”
“You’re grasping.”
“If you say so.”
My phone buzzes on top of my dresser. “Grab that, will you?”
She hops off the bed and checks my phone screen. “It’s a text from Silas.”
I sit up and skim the message, which is basically just letting me know he’s back on campus. I tell him to come over. We didn’t see each other all summer, and I’ve missed him.
Among the trash of high society that gets flushed downstream to Sandover, Silas Hazelton is the rare exception, a genuinely nice guy who isn’t working on his twelve steps or growing into a future sociopath. How he maintains his kindness in that cesspool of self-indulgence is a mystery, but he’s the only honest boy at Sandover. Which is why he’s also the only one Dad lets in the house.
SILAS: On my way.
When I answer the door ten minutes later, Silas greets me with, “Hey, stranger.” He’s wearing khakis, a white T-shirt that clings to his rock-hard abs, and a cheeky smile.
We’re such close friends, sometimes I forget he’s kind of a snack. But with those dimples and his swimmer’s build, I can’t deny he’s looking yummy.
“You’re in a good mood,” I tease as he pulls me toward him.
“Missed your face.” He gives me a tight hug and kisses my temple. Of the truly great hugs in the universe, his are up there.
“Silas, welcome back.” Dad noses in, standing in the foyer with a cup of tea. Just his subtle way of making sure I haven’t developed a sudden and uncontrollable sexual attraction to one of my best friends. “Settling in all right?”