Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
And that, she most definitely was.
Brown attempted to snatch the bat from her, but she yanked it away, taking one more swing before tossing it at his feet with a clatter of metal over the pavement. “And now I’m done.”
And now my dick was hard. Again.
“Duuuuude....” Wolf smacked my arm on a chuckle. “Dude! If you’re not interested—”
“Shut up, Wolf.”
Brown stormed off with Drew in tow. When they passed by Wolf’s truck, she winked at me.
Wolf shook his head. “You’re one doomed motherfucker.”
I watched her ass as they went into the school. “Nah, man. I’m not.” Because that would get her expelled, get me my fuck, and get her out of my life, whether I wanted it to or not.
* * *
Medusa: I got suspended again! Not expelled. And now I’m grounded.
On a groan, I dragged a hand down my face. This was ridiculous.
Arlo sat beside me at Waffle Hut, bouncing up and down as he ate his fries. “You mad, Bubba?”
“No.”
Hendrix snorted before shoveling hash browns in his mouth. “Bubba...”
Ignoring him, I went back to the text. No way she didn’t expelled.
Me: You’re full of shit.
She sent through a picture of her suspension slip. Her dad must be paying Brown truckloads. Because the damage she did to his car was pretty damn bad.
Medusa: No sex for you tonight.
Me: Not with you...
At this point, I was so hard up for her, I couldn’t even think about another girl. But she didn’t have to know that.
Medusa: Good to know we aren’t making our agreement exclusive.
Me: Who are you fucking, Drew?
Me: Some Barrington dick?
I thought about that blue dot that practically stayed at another house.
Medusa: Who are you fucking?
Me: Jealous, baby girl?
“What are you smiling at?” Hendrix glared across the booth, dumping hot sauce over his hash browns.
“Nothing.”
“If you’ve got some beaver picture over there that you’re hoarding…” He lifted a brow before cramming food in his mouth.
“I’m in Waffle-Hut, dick.”
Arlo shifted in the seat beside me, sucking down his soda.
Hendrix grinned. “And it’s a fine place to look at P-O-R—”
I chucked a fry from my plate at Hendrix. “He can spell.”
Hendrix rolled his eyes, mumbling under his breath.
Arlo tugged at my sleeve, holding his crotch and wiggling in the plastic booth. “I gotta tinkle.”
“Then go.” I thumbed back to the bathroom, and he shot off.
“Don’t talk about beavers and porn in front of my kid brother, you dipshit.”
Hendrix shrugged a shoulder. “Like he knows what kinda beaver I’m talking about. He thinks it’s something that gobbles down wood.” He froze with his fork halfway to his mouth, a proud grin taking over his face. “Holy shit. Beavers do gobble down wood.” Then he and Wolf burst into laughter.
The bell over the diner door jingled, and a group of Barrington pricks in their letterman jackets stepped in.
Hendrix cracked his head to the side, and Wolf crammed the rest of his patty-melt into his mouth, his stare aimed right at them. The shit between Dayton and Barrington ran deep, and any time one of us could dig a grave for the other, we’d gladly oblige.
Jackson Bennett—the quarterback who replaced Max Harford after Zepp sent him to the hospital earlier in the year—stopped at the end of the booth. His too-clean, rich-boy nails drummed over the table while the rest of his dumbass, yuppie friends formed a letterman and Chino clad line behind him.
“I’m going to tell you one time, West, and one time only…” My blood heated at his unfinished pussy-ass threat. “Leave Drew Morgan alone.”
And now there was an inferno. He knew her. Well enough to think he had a right to start a bloodbath over her. And wasn’t he just the type she would go for?
“I knew you were stupid, Bennett. But seriously?” My fingers instinctively pulled into fists. “Stupid enough to threaten me?
Hendrix shot up from the table. Wolf latched onto him like a dog on a leash, then shifted himself to the edge of the booth.
Bennett’s jaw set. “I’ll beat your poor, white-trash ass right here. Right now.”
If I had to guess, he’d only been brave enough to say that because there were about six of them, but even being outnumbered by three, we’d still kick their asses. Rich boys had no idea how to fight with their fists.
The door to the bathroom swung open, and the sound of Arlo singing the SpongeBob SquarePants echoed over the Waffle-Hut Theme Song playing through the jukebox.
“If my little brother weren’t with me,” I said. “You’d be fucking dead.”
Arlo skirted around the corner, and the Barrington guys backed up. “I did a number two!” Arlo held up two fingers before snatching a fry from his plate and cramming it into his mouth. “And I even washed my hands.”
“Good to see you, West. Hope I’ve made myself clear.” Bennett started down the aisle.
“Yeah. I’ll tell her you sent your regards.”