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)
“That’s not your problem. I can handle it.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh yeah. I already went at it with one chick who was talking shit. She’s probably going to need a therapist after our conversation.”
“Good. Keep at it.”
“Of course.” If there’s one thing Fenn and I have in common, it’s being protective where Casey’s concerned.
I don’t mind going to bat for my sister. Happy to cut a bitch. But keeping up the persona, being this model of an invincible force in everyone else’s eyes—it’s exhausting. Dad and Casey lean on me, expecting me to shoulder their burdens, and meanwhile I’m looking around and there’s no one ready to catch me when it gets too heavy. But I can’t tell them any of that. Casey would be overwrought with guilt. Dad would probably lecture me that I’m letting him down. As for friends, that’s something I’d never share with Silas or anyone else—nobody is allowed to see me looking vulnerable. Ever.
Still. It would be nice, I think, to have just one person I could say that to.
After Fenn’s gone, I stay outside for a moment, breathing in the warm night air. I’m just turning back toward the house when a text lights up my phone.
MILA: We still not talking?
Speaking of “friends.”
I continue walking, ignoring the text. But I keep my read receipts on for certain people, and Mila is one of them. I want her to know I’m reading her messages and choosing to ignore them.
Observant as always, my former best friend doesn’t miss the slight.
MILA: Come on, babe. Bygones etc?
I leave her on read again. Mila and I have known each other since freshman year, which means she knows exactly what I’m like. Sloane Tresscott doesn’t have much use for second chances. You hurt me or my family, you’re dead to me. When I’m filling out those college applications and one asks me what my greatest strengths are? Easy.
Running.
Never showing weakness.
And my unwavering ability to hold a grudge.
Chapter 14
RJ
Sloane is my white rabbit.
I know this fixation is problematic, and yet I can’t fight the feeling that she wants to get caught. So I follow the breadcrumbs.
Sure, I could go through the trouble of developing the necessary relationships to interrogate every acquaintance she has on this campus and glean enough information to help me get a date with the girl. But fuck that seems like an awful lot of effort.
Now that I know her last name, breaking into her accounts is simple. At first I just scrolled her feeds from my own accounts, but it turns out Sloane is the one hot girl on the planet who doesn’t post her entire life on social media. Not a single bikini pic or bedroom selfie. Which is a damn shame, because I have a feeling she looks fantastic in a bikini, and I wouldn’t be against seeing her bedroom… Sadly, her main feeds are a barren landscape, so I had no choice but to dig a little deeper.
Okay, fine, I had a choice. I chose to take a quick peek behind the curtain. I know it’s an invasion of privacy, but…only a little one. It’s not like I’m digging for dirt or trying to scrape her nudes. I make a pointed effort to stay out of her DMs—I don’t read a single message or even peek at the senders. Instead, I concentrate on figuring out what makes Sloane tick.
Lawson insists she’s untouchable, which sounds like quitter talk to me. I can’t resist a puzzle, and this one is especially intriguing. If my reward is getting her in bed, even better.
Throughout the morning on Thursday, I piece together little tidbits about Sloane. The posts she likes. The stuff she’s into. Like some band she saw three times last year, following them across New England. Or the inordinate amount of time she spends researching running shoes. Eventually I shift my attention to actual work, finding myself in the computer lab after my last class because the dorm internet is at a crawl, and I have shit to do. Like printing the history essays Fenn and I have due tomorrow. Only this damn printer keeps saying the paper tray is empty when I’ve added paper to the thing twice.
“Come on, you piece of shit. What do you want from me?” I give it the ol’ engineer’s tap, which only makes it sputter a noise I haven’t heard it make before.
“It’s always doing that.” A dark-haired kid walks up and gets on the floor to reach behind the machine and unplug it.
“I probably should have started with that, huh?”
“Nah, this requires more than just unplugging. Watch, it’s a whole thing,” he says after plugging it back in. He stands to monitor the display screen as it boots up. “They haven’t updated the firmware on this thing since like 2003, so it’s always freaking out for no reason.”