Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“Tell anyone, and I’ll kill you.”
He snorted. “Okay.”
The silence stretched between us, the distant hum of the highway permeated only by the buzz of cicadas. I had to wonder why he cared enough that he’d turn up at Max’s house. He was so desperate for Max to be the bad guy.
“Why do you hate Max so much?”
He stared across the trailer park. In the distance, I could just make out the twinkling lights of Barrington. “Those assholes get every opportunity.”
I shrugged. “That’s just the way the world works.”
“They think they’re better, but meanwhile their moms are popping Vicodin, chasing it with champagne, and their daddies are jerking their dicks at the strip clubs.” He chugged his beer. “They’re no better than us.”
His comment hit a little too close to home. How many times had I danced for those kinds of guys?
“Preaching to the choir,” I mumbled, before tipping up my beer. Zepp was right, we had zero opportunities, and that made a hard life even harder.
Silence fell over us like a comfortable blanket for a few minutes. I took in the strong set of Zepp’s jaw, his lips, a brow that seemed permanently crumpled with the weight of the world, and my heart tripped a little. There was a savagery to him that most feared, down to the way he looked. Zepp Hunt was an animal because he had to be. But I wasn’t so sure he was as awful as everyone thought.
One of the neighbors started yelling, breaking me from my thoughts.
“How did you know where Max lives?”
He took a sip of beer. “Until you decide to tell me who hits you, I’m not telling you.”
My temper prickled beneath my skin.
“I’m working for you for three months, Zepp. That’s it. You don’t get to dictate my life.” I glared at him. “I can handle myself.” I didn’t need a white knight or a savior. This was not a fairytale. I was no damsel, and Zeppelin Hunt was certainly no prince.
He leaned over his lawn chair and grabbed the arm of mine, invading my space. The scent of beer danced on his breath, caressing my face. “For the next three months, I can dictate it,” he said. “And I will.”
Back and forth we went, and every time I thought he might just be okay, he made me hate him again. Carved from stone, Zepp was hard, implacable. An asshole most of the time, but he had fought for me when he thought Max was hurting me. And that meant something because no one had ever cared before. Under the weight of that sad realization, my temper snuffed out.
“Thank you,” I said before I pushed to my feet and descended the ladder.
I still didn’t like him, and he was still a dick, but perhaps he was less of a dick than I had thought.
11
Zepp
I sat in calculus, drawing a picture, trying to take my mind off her. I didn’t know jack shit about Monroe, and yet, the idea of her cost me sleep and my sanity. By the time the bell rang, the page was covered with a half-finished sketch of a forest filled with demons. A girl from the back of class stopped beside my desk. “That’s good,” she said.
I slammed the notebook closed, got out of my seat, and headed to the cafeteria to meet up with the guys.
Spaghetti splattered up from the tray when I dropped it to the table beside Monroe. She tensed, stopping mid-sentence as the rest of the guys took seats around her and Jade.
“Come on, Monroe.” Jade stabbed at the carrot on her plate. “I even have a dress for tomorrow. It’ll be fun to go to a party.”
Hendrix cocked a brow. “What kind of dress? Like one of those sacrificial gowns people wear to slaughter goats and shit?”
My gaze fixed on Monroe, but she wouldn’t look at me. “Whose party, Roe?” I twirled the watery noodles around the prongs of my fork before cramming it into my mouth.
“No one’s.”
I looked at Jade, and she froze like I was a T-rex that wouldn’t notice her if she didn’t move.
“Whose party?”
She frowned at me. “I’m not telling you.”
Hendrix sidled up to Jade, placing his nose inches from her cheek. “Whose party?”
Jade put her hands on Hendrix's shoulder, lip curled like he was a dirty rag before she shoved him away. “Oh, my God. Max Harford’s.”
Monroe tossed a bread roll at Hendrix, then a piece of celery at me. “You’re a pair of pricks.”
God, Monroe just didn’t know when to quit. Tutoring them. Going to their parties.
Monroe turned on me. “Don’t you even think about it, Zepp! I’m not going.”
“Maybe you aren’t, but we are.” Showing up, uninvited to one of Barrington’s parties, was like taking a shit on their face. Plus, by the end of the night, we could probably coerce some girl into telling us which little rich prick had ratted on us.