Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“Hey, Xander!”
“Wait up, Xander!”
Girls call after him. His popularity is fake. Built off his persona that Celebrity Crush created through paparazzi pics and rumors. The only real friends he has are his family and Easton, who’s not here today. He’s sick with the flu.
So I’m not shocked Xander is ready to get the hell out of here. I can only push off high schoolers so much without parents yelling at Dalton’s administration for my involvement. Easton does a good job of warding away unwanted attention from Xander.
And Xander lost that second shield today.
On his way out of the double doors, a girl tries to snag his shirt. I sidestep, moving behind Xander and blocking the girl from him. “Don’t touch,” I remind her.
“He’s my friend, you asshole.”
Xander peeks back for two seconds and then gives me a slight shake of the head. He has no clue who she is.
“No means no,” I tell her while sprinting after Xander, catching up to his side in another half second. Arm around his shoulders, he relaxes, and I pull him towards our car. Opening the door, I guide him into the passenger seat.
Once I’m in the front, he exhales a giant breath of relief. “Today fucking sucked.” His eyes seem solemn as he leans backwards. “Everyone kept asking me about Sulli, Banks, and Akara. Like I know what’s going on in Fiji—I’m the last one told anything.”
I doubt that’s true. Someone in the fam jam gossip hotline has to be more disconnected than Xander. I’d say Audrey, for being the youngest and for leaking the Hot Santa Video that catapulted me and SFO into some fame.
“You heard they got married?” I wonder. It’s not like it’s secret among the families. He should know.
“…Winona told me.” He frowns at himself. “Okay, maybe I do know some things.” He explains that students have badgered Winona more than him this week. She’s Sulli’s little sister, and everyone wants answers about the infamous triad.
The only reason I know the truth now: Akara and Banks sent selfies to an SFO text chat. Their arms were around Sulli, and we could clearly see the braided wedding rings.
We married her – Akara
I flooded the group chat with confetti emojis. Like I predicted, they’re holding off on a public announcement, so people will keep speculating based off photos from Fiji. I’m thrilled for the happy triad, and I wish I could go tweet in all caps THEY DESERVE LOVE #KITSULLETTI #CONGRATS #MARRIED.
You better believe when I get the okay, I’m doing it. They fly home tomorrow, so I get my boss back soon along with the paparazzi mayhem Akara, Sulli, and Banks bring.
I’m ready for it.
“Any good today?” I ask Xander.
“No. Nothing.”
“Jeet?”
He smiles at something.
“What?”
“The way you say that, man. I always like it. Jeet,” he mimics my accent and then enunciates. “Did you eat?”
I smirk, driving out of the parking lot. “Well, did you?”
“Yeah. Bacon cheddar breakfast biscuit for lunch.” His smile is softer. “Kinney gave me her yellow M&Ms—it was like the nicest thing she’s done all week.” He flips through Frankenstein with little interest. “What about you?”
“I ate a couple pudding cups.” I mime a chef’s kiss.
Xander laughs. “Really, I meant if there was anything good that happened to you today?”
I think about Illyana_Dallas222, but I don’t typically talk fandoms with Xander, outside of the ones he likes. “Pudding is always good.” I nod to him. “And our car chitchats.”
Xander smiles more. “Yeah, for me too.”
While he sifts through the junk contents inside the middle console, I ask him, “You going to the football game tonight?”
“Uh, hell no. Easton can’t go, and I don’t care how much the girl squad pesters me to go. I’m not going.”
Thank you, Jesus.
Xander grabs my pack of cigarettes, opening them.
I take it back.
“Can I have one?” he asks me, already slipping one out like I’ll say yes.
It’s just a cigarette.
He’s seventeen.
It’s just a cigarette.
I’d give one to a friend.
He’s not your friend.
I answer fast. “Nah, those are old. You don’t want them.” I collect them from his hand.
“Cigarettes can get old?”
“Sure.” I roll down my window. Ben Cobalt, my Cobalt brethren, I’m sorry. I throw this shit out the window. Littering. So long, cigarettes. You lived a short life. “They aren’t good for you anyway.”
His face twitches. “Then why do you smoke?”
I like it. It’s better than what I used to do. “I do things that aren’t always good for me.”
“So do I.” He shrugs like we’re one in the same.
His dad might as well be in the backseat. Glaring at me. Telling me, “He’s impressionable, you bastard.” His grip might as well be on my shoulder. His sharp voice in my ear. “If you lead him down a dark road, I’ll end you.”
I think of Luna.
Why does the end of me always make me think of her?