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)
“Is your mom here?”
His finger jabbed harder over the controller. “No.”
Zepp killed my avatar, the screen turned red, and I flopped back on the sofa. “Why do you have to kill me? Why can’t we just be friends?”
He glanced at me with a brow raised. “It’s a game. We fight each other.”
“You know how they say video games promote violence…” I sat up when the sound came back through the speakers. “Hendrix.”
Zepp chuckled. “He was fucked up way before we ever bought a game console.” His tongue peeked between his lips while his fingers went wild over the buttons. “He tied up some kid with a cable lock in third grade, then put him in a wheelbarrow, and dumped him on the train tracks. All because the kid kissed the girl Hendrix had a crush on.”
“Oh my God. He’s probably a shrink’s wet dream.”
We kept playing, and I kept dying—until several games in, where I finally shot him. I gave Zepp a smug smile. Then the game restarted.
“So, since you’re smart enough to tutor…” He stared at the screen, moving his player across the desert. “I guess you’re gonna go to college or some shit, huh?”
“Yeah. I’m good with numbers. Figure I can probably get a scholarship for accounting.”
He snorted. “An accountant?”
“It’s good money.”
Seconds ticked by. Zepp kept shifting in his seat, his fingers pressing harder at the buttons like he was frustrated.
“What about you?” I asked. “Are you applying to college?”
“No.”
I could sense his tension. I wanted to ask why not, but Zepp was an ever-shifting labyrinth of walls coming up before sliding down for the briefest of moments.
We sat and played, and for a couple of hours, I thought about nothing else but trying to kill Zepp’s character. After the first ten games, I couldn’t work out if I had gotten good, or if he just let me kill him.
The GAME OVER message flashed across the screen when I shot his avatar. Zepp took the controller out of my hand and tossed it onto the table. “Tired?”
I wasn’t, even though it must have been the early hours of the morning by then. “Trying to get me into your bed?” I said. Not that I hadn’t already been in it, but drunk and drugged didn’t count.
“Does it matter?” He pushed up from the sofa, grabbed my hand, then pulled me to my feet.
“Yes.” I snorted. “I’m going to go. I didn't come over here to jump in your bed, Zepp. I just needed...” Him. I had needed him.
“And I didn’t invite you over for a fuck.” He yanked me closer. “I just want you to stay. Al-fucking-right?”
Clutching his shirt, I rested my forehead to his chest, inhaling his intoxicating scent. I wanted to stay, which was the exact reason I should have left. But instead, I whispered, “Okay.”
He led me up the creaking staircase to his room. The door shut behind us.
One quick glance at my jean-clad legs, and he thumbed at his nose ring. Then he fell onto the chair in front of his small desk. “Come here.”
With each step closer, nervousness wound through me. A stifling beat of silence stretched between us before Zepp’s fingers brushed the bare skin of my waist. “What’s with the jeans, Roe?”
“I uh…” I scrambled for something—anything but the truth. “I wanted a change?”
“Bullshit.” He pushed to his feet. His entire frame bristled with the aggressive energy that was as natural to him as breathing. My palm pressed to his stomach, meeting the rock-hard muscle beneath his worn shirt.
“What? I’m not allowed to wear jeans now?”
“I’ve never seen you cover those legs.” Rough fingers skirted underneath the hem of my shirt, leaving heat in their wake. “Not even in the middle of last year’s snowstorm.”
My gaze fell to the floor. Zepp and I had never spoken until I jacked that car from him. The idea that he had noticed anything about me a year ago shouldn’t have caused that stupid flutter in my chest. But it did.
I had no explanation for him, though, because the truth was, the clothing I’d always worn like armor now made me feel stripped and vulnerable. Leah’s words had cut a wound far deeper than I ever should have allowed. I was festering from the inside out, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin. But I wouldn’t tell him any of that.
He pressed a finger under my chin, forcing me to look at him. “I liked the damn skirts and fishnets.”
“Well, that’s okay then. Zeppelin Hunt likes it.”
We were so close, and I gravitated toward the heat of his body—the warmth of his touch. Zepp had become a safe haven; an unlikely protector I didn’t want but at that moment, needed.
But I didn’t know how to do this with him. Awkwardness crept up on me, and I took a small step back. He looked at me like he didn’t know what to do. Like he was absolutely lost, and for some reason, I couldn't imagine Zepp Hunt had ever been lost when it came to a girl in his bedroom.