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)
“It’ll blow over,” Easton tells him, “and if it doesn’t, we’re out of here in May.”
“Yeah…” Xander shuts his book.
For a split-second of silence, Luna pops back in my head. Her lack of text response pushes to the very front of my brain. It’s fine. She’s busy at college too. Nothing to worry about.
Except she’s a prompt texter and will usually reply within ten minutes.
“Ughh, why are so many guys at this school absolute douchebags?” Vada Abbey has appeared, and my attention snaps into focus on the sixteen-year-old BMX rider with gap-teeth and a dirty-blonde French braid. She throws her messenger bag across the table but it thuds into Easton’s lap.
“Degenerates,” Easton says. “All of them.” He slides her bag back across the table. “Including the girls.”
Vada sits on the table near Easton. “I’d much rather be a degenerate than a cunty douchebag.”
“Said no Ivy League hopeful ever.”
Easton has made it clear he doesn’t want to go to Penn or Princeton or Yale. He’d rather shoot for an easier college, but his parents are pushing. He’s resisting, and Xander—I’m not sure of his plans yet.
‘Cause he’s not sure.
He’s a teeter-totter. Vacillating between so many options. The world’s his oyster though. He’ll find his pearl.
I click my mic and whisper, “Donnelly to Epsilon, Vada has entered my AO.”
Greer is fast as fuck to reply. “Is Winona with her?”
“Negative.”
“Keep an eye on Vada,” Greer tells me. “The T-Bags have been bothering her, too.”
“Got it.”
It’s an understood agreement among all forces that Vada might not have a 24/7 bodyguard, but she belongs to all of us. We equally look out for her when she’s around.
Vada leans back on her hands, her leg almost brushing up against Easton’s knee. He doesn’t move away, and my flirt-senses are tingling but I can’t be certain something is going on between them. Luna would know if she were here. Her Spidey-senses are higher quality.
Girl rocks the Spider-Man suit better than Tom Holland.
I blink into focus again, just as Vada says, “You know Ben is at Penn, and he’s not some Ivy League douchebag.”
“Ben,” Easton says like his name is acid on the tongue. Don’t love the Cobalt slander, but I don’t have enough evidence to say whether it’s warranted.
Xander puts on red headphones, just at the mention of Ben.
Vada’s face drops. “Xander.”
“What? Ben is Ben. Why do you and Winona insist on bringing him up all the goddamn time?”
“Because he was our friend.”
“He was her best friend and yours by fucking association, Vada.” The instant Xander drives in the dagger, the instant guilt warps his face. “I didn’t mean…” He swallows hard.
Just stand here. Do nothing. Study the walls. Picture Luna naked. Yeah, don’t fucking do that.
Easton watches Xander’s expression fall, then Vada’s. “What is your obsession with Ben?” he asks her with genuine confusion.
Her face reddens. “It’s not an obsession.” She collects her messenger bag. “Did you two ever think that school might’ve been easier when he was here?”
“I didn’t attend Dalton when Ben went,” Xander reminds her.
Easton frowns at Vada. “Why was it easier for you?”
“Guys weren’t…”
“Guys weren’t what?”
“Douchebags, we’ve talked about this.” She hops off the table, and his fingers slip across her leg.
“Vada,” he calls after her, rising out of his chair. “Vada!” He casts a quick glance at Xander, who nods to him goodbye, and then Easton chases after the Abbey girl.
“Vada’s out of my AO,” I whisper in my mic. Cracking jokes on comms is ten times less fun when SFE is on the line and Omega are off it.
I wish my phone would buzz.
I force myself not to send Luna a nagging text. I’m on-duty. Luna is fine. She’s with Quinn and Frog.
She’s safe.
She’s safe.
I’m uneasy, but that could be because, I dunno, my girlfriend was kidnapped by my own family not even two months ago. She’s now bracing the world, and I believe in her—I will always believe in Luna Hale—but some things will always be out of our control.
Threats. Accidents. A busted toaster at Wawa on a Tuesday afternoon, no hot hoagies.
It’s natural to be worried.
I’m not an overbearing boyfriend. I haven’t even done any fucking thing to be overbearing. Fuck.
Fuck.
I need to stop thinking about her while I’m working, but I also hate telling myself to stop thinking about that girl. I’m in a pickle.
Or a catch-22.
Same thing, probably. Pickle sounds better.
Xander packs up his headphones, and I push myself off the wall and ask, “You going back to reading or what?”
“You mean procrastinating?” He slips the book in his backpack. “I should be working on the Fizzle product thing. Or college applications. Or AP European History homework. Aaaaand…I’m not.” He slings the backpack on his shoulder. “It all sounds too daunting right now.”
Thriving and stressed.
“Another time, another day,” I say lightly. “You’ll get it done.”
He sighs out, “Yeah. I’m gonna head to my locker before the bell rings.” He’s quick-footed down the stairs, and I follow right behind, planning to lead the way upon exiting the library. For now, I trail him.