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)
“He’s an asshole, Jade.”
Zepp sauntered toward me, parting the sea of students before him.
Near-black eyes roamed over me, and I wanted to slap myself for the way my pulse ticked up. He shoved his phone into my hands. “Number.” He said it loud enough that a couple of the girls walking past stopped and stared. There was only one reason Zepp asked a girl for her number.
“Why would I give you my number?”
“Because I told you to.” Our eyes met, battle lines drawn. An unamused laugh slipped past his lips, and I hated that I found it sexy. “Phone number, Monroe.”
I reluctantly keyed in my number, then shoved the phone against his chest and stormed off, Jade in tow.
Jade leaned in, clutching her books to her chest. “You totally just gave Zepp Hunt your number. And everyone saw,” she whispered.
Yes, they did. One request: keep it quiet—and he couldn’t even stick to it. He pissed me off so much that it was all I could think about for the rest of the school day and into the evening.
I had to work that night, and that anger festered as I worked the pole and lap danced for sleazy men until two in the morning. When my shift was over, I went back to the dressing room and got changed, then checked my phone. There was a string of missed texts from an unknown number.
Unknown Caller: I need a favor.
Unknown Caller: Don’t ignore me, Monroe.
Unknown Caller: WTF are U doing?
It had to be Zepp. My fingers were typing out a response when that same number flashed across the screen. I answered it, pressing it to my ear while I shouldered my bag. “Yeah?”
“You asleep or some shit?” Zepp’s deep voice came down the line. Rap music thumped in the background.
“What do you want?”
“You. At my house. Now.”
“No.”
Silence crossed the line. I could imagine that sharp jawline of his ticcing with frustration. “Don’t be stupid, Monroe.”
One of the girls pranced into the room, counting through her cash as she made her way around me.
“I had one request, Zepp. Discretion.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You asked for my number. In the middle of the damn hall. That is not discrete.”
A deep laugh rumbled through the speaker. “I ask for girls’ numbers all the time.”
“Well, great.” And now I looked like one of his sluts. One of the girls giggled at her changing table, and I went into the hall. “I don’t want to be associated with you in any way. Got it?”
“Jesus Christ… You have twenty minutes to get to my house with two cases of beer,” he said, then the line clicked.
He had hung up. I stared at the blank screen, anger bubbling away like a boiling pot. Zepp couldn’t hold up his end of the deal, so neither would I.
5
Zepp
Twenty minutes had passed. Thirty. The party had started to thin out, and I still didn’t have any beer. I moved through the drunk girls leaned against the wall, and Wolf glanced over at me, one brow raised and a slight pull on his lips.
“She’s got some balls, dude. Some major balls.” He snagged a joint from one of the girls and took a puff. “What are you gonna do, Zepp?”
And that, I wasn’t sure of. She was a girl—one who wasn’t eager to fuck me—which meant I had limited options. I wasn’t going to hurt her, but I sure as shit could embarrass her. “I’ll figure it out.” I shouldered through the living room, then took the stairs to my room. That girl was unbelievable.
There was a soft knock at my door before it cracked open. I looked up from the bed as Leah slipped inside. I was not in the mood for her bullshit tonight. The problem with girls like Leah, they thought they would come to the shit side of town, bang one of the broken bad boys, then clean him up and make him into something close to shiny. Tying one of us down would have been like hanging a lion’s head on a wall. A trophy. Something any Barrington girl could brag about.
She flopped down onto the bed, stretching her arms out in a piss-poor attempt to look sexy. “You wanna have sex?”
I jerked my chin toward the door. “I’m sure my brother would be more than willing.”
She sat up, her cheeks tinging red. “Come on, Zepp.” She rubbed over my crotch. “I know you want me.”
“Jesus Christ! I just told you to go fuck my brother.” I shoved her hand away. “Get out.”
Leah shoved to her feet with a huff, stomping across my bedroom like a spoiled brat before she slammed the door on her way out. The most pathetic thing about it was: Leah would text me later that night. She’d show back up next weekend because she didn’t care that I didn’t respect her. The way I saw it, respect wasn’t nearly as important to her as image. And that was pretty damn sad.