Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
I return to the table.
His tie is undone, and the silver chain of his necklace dangles over the book he’s devouring. On the end of the chain is a silver pendant of a broken sword. It’s the same weapon Isildur used to cut the One Ring from Sauron’s hand in Lord of the Rings. I know this ‘cause I did my research before I bought Xander the necklace.
A birthday present. Think he likes it. He hasn’t taken it off since Christmas.
He’s reading Mistborn: The Final Empire by Brandon Sanderson and munching on pretzel sticks. Which is contraband. I should know I got yelled at by the librarian for snacking in here last week.
His eyes lift, like he feels me staring. “You can sit, Donnelly.”
“Nah, I like standing.” My presence has deterred two girls already. I adjust the earpiece in my ear. “Can’t wait to Boogeyman some more teenagers away. Gonna give your dad a run for his money on best Boogeyman status.”
Xander lets out a laugh. “You have a long way to go, man.” He thinks for a second, not diving back into the book. “Hey, what’d my sister get you?”
“For what?”
“For Christmas. I forgot to ask her, and you two exchanged presents in private.”
Yeah, we did.
This isn’t something I should be talking to Xander about. Not while on-duty. But Loren Hale’s fears about me being a buddyguard are burnt toast. Just straight up crispy. I’d still eat it, granted, but Oscar would throw that shit right in the trash.
I’m not a buddyguard. It’s not possible for me to be his friend like that when I’m dating his sister. I’m more so…his brother? I dunno. I’ve never had a little brother. I can’t say if this is veering in that direction or not.
Xander cringes in my silence, then groans. “Shit, is it sexual? Because if it is—you can forget I asked.”
“Luck in a jar,” I say.
“What?” He stares blankly. “Is that a sex position?”
I hold back a laugh. “Could be, maybe, but I wouldn’t know because your sister gave me glitter in a tiny glass bottle and labeled it luck in a jar. She’s cute and crafty.” And fucking hot, but I don’t add that. He’s still concerned this’ll be a short-term fling with his sister—that she’ll move on too fast from me, and I see him weighing pieces of our relationship that I’m not putting on any scale.
I can’t live my life like that. I’d go nuts.
At least Xander is in our camp, rooting for us to last. Epsilon has several bets hinging on the timeline of my relationship. Most have money on a break-up in March.
Fuck them.
Xander nods slowly. “Sounds like a Luna gift.”
“Right from her heart and hands,” I say lightly and survey the row of bookshelves. Thought I heard a rustling. False alarm.
Xander buries his attention back in his novel.
Then comms go off in my ear. “Greer to Donnelly,” the Epsilon bodyguard says. “Have you seen Winona today?”
I suppress an annoyed sigh.
This is the fourth time today I’ve been asked to check on other clients like I’m somehow the Teen Whisperer for all the famous ones at Dalton. It’s really my own doing. I made this unfortunate bed by trying to be a team player with the enemy.
Coulda kept my mouth shut. But no—I told Epsilon what Luna overheard at the lake house. How Winona’s having some issues with the T-Bags at school, specifically Tate. Luna didn’t mind me going to security as long as she remained an “anonymous” tip, and so far, SFE hasn’t demanded to know my source. And if they have suspicions it’s Luna, they haven’t ratted her out yet.
Greer had a short talk with Winona’s parents. Don’t know how that conversation went except for Winona still doesn’t want her bodyguard in the halls.
Neither do Kinney or Audrey. And the girls convinced their moms and dads to give them another shot without a bodyguard shadow.
So that leaves me.
Paul Donnelly.
Sole survivor of the Dalton Academy Hunger Games. I haven’t been ousted yet by my client. In fact, every morning, he asks, “You still okay with coming in?”
I always reply, “Would rather be in than out.”
So while I’m here, Epsilon sits in the parking lot and has nothing better to do than radio me for updates. If this were a popularity contest, I’d chuck the sash into the garbage.
I click my mic and tell Greer, “Haven’t seen her.”
He’s quick to reply. “She’s in the science hall next period, if you could check.”
“Negative,” I say. “I’m in the history hall next period. It’s on the opposite side.”
“You’ll be standing in the hallway all period. You can do a quick flyby.”
And what? Stare at her classroom door? She’s going to be in class. I’m about to say as much when I stop myself.
Team player.
That’s me.
Or at least, I’m trying not to get fired. Trying not to put Akara in a position where I’m looking for a job and he can’t hire me back. I take a breath before I click my mic again. “I’ll see if I have time.”