Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“It’s funny that I actually thought you were different from the rest of these assholes.” He releases a humorless bark of laughter into the atmosphere. “Guess I was wrong. You’re so much worse.”
My mouth falls open.
Oh god…he thinks I told Jasper about his dyslexia.
I shake my head almost violently. “I never said a word. I have no idea how he found—”
“Baby, there’s no longer a reason to lie,” Jasper says, stepping out of the shadows and snaking a muscular arm around my waist. I can only gawk as he hauls me close. “It was all a joke. I mean,” he cocks his head as pity flashes across his face, “you get that, right? You’re not actually that stupid, are you?”
A muscle twitches in Austin’s jaw.
Hushed whispers echo in my ears and I realize with a sinking heart that we’re no longer alone. People have filtered out from the party and are crowding around us.
Jasper’s eyes widen. “Holy shit! You actually thought she was interested in you? Fuck, dude…I can’t decide if that’s hilarious or just pathetic.” He pauses as if giving the question serious consideration. “Nah, it’s definitely pathetic. Like Delilah would ever be interested in Hawthorne trash.” He shakes his head as his voice escalates with each word. “Especially trash who can’t even read a fucking book.”
Snickers erupt from the press of people on the balcony. I glance around in horror as more classmates pour through the door. The ones in the back crane their necks, not wanting to miss a single word.
A growl emanates from deep within Austin’s chest as his hands tighten at his sides. Just as I open my mouth to tell him not to do it, he springs forward. Jasper shoves me aside and I stumble in my heels before steadying myself and swinging around.
“Austin, no!” I scream.
Doesn’t he realize that Jasper has been baiting him?
A fight is exactly what he’s angling for.
But it’s much too late. It’s doubtful Austin can hear me through the red haze shimmering around him like a living, breathing entity as he draws back an arm and slams his fist into Jasper’s face. Instead of retaliating, the other boy staggers a few paces, his hands fly to his nose as blood gushes from it, dripping onto his starched white shirt before puddling at his feet.
Kingsley leaps forward and grabs Austin, dragging him away as he whispers harshly in his ear. His attempts to defuse the situation don’t work. Austin’s narrowed gaze stays pinned to Jasper as he continues to growl. His lips are peeled back in a snarl. When he continues to struggle against Kingsley’s hold, Duke Carmichael jumps in to offer assistance.
“Austin, stop!” Summer cries.
But still, he doesn’t spare her a glance as he tries to break free and get to Jasper.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Mr. Pembroke barks, shoving his way through the throng of students that fill the outdoor space. His gaze bounces from a bloodied Jasper to Austin, who continues to struggle against the boys holding him.
Kristina sweeps onto the balcony. Her eyes widen as she gets a good look at her son. “Jasper! My god, who did this to you?”
Benedict pulls a snowy white linen handkerchief from his breast pocket and hands it over to stymie the blood that continues to flow.
“Austin attacked me.”
My mouth tumbles open at such a blatant lie.
Mr. Pembroke’s icy stare settles on Austin. “It would appear that trouble follows you everywhere you go, young man.”
“Just ask Delilah,” Jasper says in a nasally voice. “She saw everything. She’ll tell you what happened.”
The older man turns his considerable bulk toward me before raising a brow. “Is that true, Ms. Robinson? Did Mr. Hawthorne strike Mr. Morgan?”
My teeth sink into my lower lip as I try to phrase my answer without implicating Austin. “Technically, that might—”
“Perhaps I should have been more specific,” he interrupts before snapping, “did Mr. Hawthorne strike Mr. Morgan first?”
I press my lips together, not wanting to answer.
“Ms. Robinson,” the headmaster growls, growing more irritated by the second “please don’t make me repeat myself.”
My gaze cuts to Austin. An icy mask has fallen over his features. Beneath it, barely leashed fury and pain seethe, attempting to break free.
“Yes, but—”
Mr. Pembroke slices an arm through the air. “A yes or no response is all that’s required. Did Mr. Morgan then retaliate and assault Mr. Hawthorne in return?”
My shoulders collapse beneath the heavy weight of the question.
When his bushy brows rise, I force myself to whisper, “No.”
Leaning forward, he cups a hand to his ear. “I’m sorry, Ms. Robinson. You must project your voice louder in order to be heard.”
The hushed murmurs filling the crowd turn silent.
My cheeks flood with heat as I glance around and find everyone’s attention pinned to me. My stomach spasms as my mouth turns bone dry. “No.”
“Hmmm.” He nods as if he suspected this answer all along. “It would seem the situation is fairly cut and dry.”