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)
He finally seems to compose himself, setting his jaw and resting his elbows on the desk. “You have until Friday to turn in your missed assignments or take a zero. My advice? Your energies are better applied on your homework.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I grab a pen and a scrap piece of paper from my bag, jotting down my phone number as I stand. “This is my number. Should I leave it here with you in case there are any opportunities for, ah, extra credit?”
His gaze wanders over me before he catches himself and licks the nervous dryness from his lips.
“Sir?” I prompt, fighting a grin. I wave the paper at him. “What should I do with this?”
He hesitates.
Dilemmas, dilemmas. Does he dismiss me and hold on to his plausible deniability, eventually claiming sexual harassment on my part if anyone ever calls him out for flirting in class?
Or does he—
“Leave it with me,” he grinds out, reaching for the paper.
I plant my apple on the desk with the note beneath it and give Mr. Goodwyn a wink as I leave.
As I’m passing through the reception area, Petra spins in her chair to closely follow my departure. “Good chat?”
I dole out another wink, nodding vigorously. “Very productive.”
Chapter 31
RJ
As close calls go, that one was razor thin. I think I’m still hungover from the emotional bender last night became. I don’t know what it looked like to Sloane, but it was one of the most uncomfortable conversations I’ve ever had, like excavating my heart with sandpaper. I’ve never talked about my dad with anyone before, hardly even my mom.
Strangely, though, I feel better.
I managed to hang onto Sloane by the tips of my fingers, yeah. But it feels like we’re closer now. Like we understand each other better. It was messy, and neither of us is unscathed, but there’s a bond between us now that I’m not sure we would have gotten to any other way. Fuck, that sounds corny and sentimental, but…whatever. I guess this chick is getting to me.
And I don’t entirely mind it.
SLOANE: FYI, I changed all my passwords to my dogs’ names.
ME: Funny.
Thursday night, Fenn and I are on the couch in our dorm playing video games. I let my guy die and now get to watch Fenn run around trying to salvage the level, while texting with Sloane at the same time.
She’s taken to ribbing me about my not-so-slight indiscretion. I know I deserve it. Just have to take my licks until she’s worn herself out. In terms of punishments, it’s not the worst outcome.
SLOANE: You didn’t copy my nudes, right?
ME: Which ones were yours? Let me see and I’ll tell you if I recognize any.
At least she’s got a sense of humor about it.
SLOANE: Casey suggested I give you makeup assignments.
ME: Did she? Like what?
SLOANE: How would you feel about spending a week in a mascot costume?
ME: You think that’s the most embarrassing way I’ve ever shown up to class? Try harder.
SLOANE: So what are we doing this weekend?
ME: We, huh? I thought you said you had that history paper to write.
SLOANE: You’re more interesting.
As much as my ego enjoys hearing that, something’s stuck with me since our fight in the woods. That moment when Sloane admitted she’d broken her promise to focus on school this year. She’d looked so ashamed with herself, and I can’t deny it sparked some guilt in me. I, personally, might not give a shit about homework, but Sloane’s trying to land a scholarship. I’d hate to be the reason she lost out.
ME: Tell you what. Meet me at our spot tomorrow after school and bring your work. If I see you finish at least a rough draft, I’ll allow you to spend time with me Saturday night.
SLOANE: ALLOW me! Gee! Thank you SO MUCH!!
I chuckle at the phone, drawing a sigh from Fenn.
“Your lovey dovey texting is repulsive,” he informs me without taking his eyes off the TV.
ME: You’ll thank me when you’re older.
SLOANE: Haha.
SLOANE: Fine. Study date tomorrow after school. Don’t be late.
ME: Wouldn’t dream of it.
SLOANE: And don’t forget to text me good night.
ME: Wouldn’t dream of that, either.
There’s a knock at our door and Fenn throws down the controller to answer it. He was getting his ass kicked anyway.
“It’s for you,” he calls. “Some sophomore.”
Fenn leaves the door open and takes his seat back on the couch as I grab a thumb drive from my desk drawer.
“What’d you find?” The eager underclassman reaches out to snatch the drive from my hand, but I don’t let him get his sticky little mitts on it yet.
“Payment upfront,” I remind him.
He scoffs. “But I don’t even know what’s on it.”
“And it’ll cost you five hundred to find out.” I don’t negotiate with scrawny virgins still asking Santa for their first pube.