Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
He had my head all twisted up.
Class was boring as shit on Monday morning. I couldn’t wrap my head around why Braxton liked this shit, why any of these people did. Maybe it was just too tied into my dad, but I knew that wasn’t the case. I’d never enjoyed it. I’d just been able to fake it a whole lot more before I lost all respect for him.
“What are you up to?” I asked Brax when we’d been let out.
“Library. You?”
“You’re a really shitty bad boy.”
“You’re the one who made that ridiculous assumption. I am who I am, and that’s all.”
He had me there, but he’d also used to be a pickpocket and who knew what else, so who could blame me for my assumptions. “We should head to the empty room again. I want to work a load out of your balls.”
Brax paused, and I could see the war raging in his eyes. He wanted me on my knees. He wanted to come down my throat.
He groaned. “Why did you have to say that? I have shit I have to do for class. You have shit you need to do too.”
“Yeah, well, doing you is more fun.”
He frowned, and I knew it was because of my dad and the fact that I fucking hated computers. “Come to the library with me. We’ll get some work done together. I can help.”
“Wanna help me get off instead?”
“You get your work done, and I promise there’s an orgasm in it for you.”
“Bet.” I didn’t mention I was the one who was supposed to blow him and now he was making me come. I’d enjoy myself either way, but I wasn’t going to turn down him emptying my balls.
More than that, the offer to help was nice. I thought he was more King Niceington of Nicetown than he let himself see. He could’ve gotten an orgasm out of me and been on his way, but instead he wanted to work with me on my homework? It was pretty cool.
We headed across campus together. I loved that you could see the ocean across the street, that the air always smelled like salt and summer. It was hard to imagine that in a year and a half I’d be expected to move back east again. The coastline was just as beautiful there, but there was something special about Southern California. “Do you ever feel like you’re waking up in paradise every day?” I asked Brax.
“Nope,” he replied simply. “Have you seen the traffic on the I-5?”
“I’m not talking about traffic, just…I don’t know. You suck.”
He nudged me with his arm, chuckling. “I guess I don’t see things the same way. I’ve only lived here, so I don’t have much to compare it to. Is it beautiful? Fuck yes. Would I call it a paradise? Probably not.”
“I’m not saying it’s perfect, but life could be a whole lot worse.”
“You’re leaving when you graduate?” Brax asked, but didn’t wait for me to answer. “Is it different because of your dad? Makes sense, ya know? That you’ll question every little thing now.”
“Yeah, I do question everything. I’m expected back home so I can work for Langley Enterprises.”
“If you don’t want to, don’t go.”
I turned to look at Brax, forehead wrinkled and a look in my eyes that I hoped told him he was crazy. “It’s not that easy.”
“So? Does everything have to be easy? Seems like most things have been that way your whole life, and you’re not happy.”
“I’m happy,” I argued. Who did he think he was?
“Are you? I mean, surface level, yeah, but you’re over halfway through school for a career you don’t want and planning on moving to a place where you don’t want to live, with a person you’re angry with and don’t want to work for. Maybe you need a little difficulty to shake up your life.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s where you come in.” I tried to keep my voice light, but the truth was, Brax was right. Not that I’d never had to work hard for anything. I wasn’t a natural at lacrosse, but I’d trained and practiced until I was the best. I was shit with computers, but before I found out about my dad, I’d studied my ass off to get good grades. I took the job at Shenanigans, determined to start making my own way—and, okay, mostly to piss my father off—though I guess I wouldn’t call the latter that hard. Still, when it counted, I took the easy way. But what did it matter if I ignored my dad’s calls and worked at a bar if I was still going to follow the path he’d carved out for me?
“You like that I don’t make anything easy on you. If I had, you would have lost interest already. Everyone gives you what you want without you even having to ask for it, but not me.”