Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 7
SILAS
MONDAY AFTER SWIM PRACTICE, I DROP BY SLOANE’S HOUSE, SINCE lately she doesn’t respond to texts. For the last week she’s made herself a ghost, and I had to hear it from Lawson that she once again patched things up with the antisocial asshole RJ.
I’ve never known Sloane to be exceptionally reasonable. Her wheelhouse tends to be a cozy corner at the nexus of stubborn and spiteful. Take the roller derby death match that was her relationship with Duke—none of us on the outside looking in understood what we were watching, but the objective seemed to be inflicting as much damage as possible. With all the on-again-off-agains, they stuck it out longer than they had any right to; Sloane, apparently motivated by attrition, willing to die starving him out. At least that makes more sense than those two having any genuine affection for each other.
And now we get to experience the lackluster sequel with RJ Shaw. It’s like she’s addicted to dirtbags. Of course, I have to keep my mouth shut because Sloane doesn’t take well to criticism.
Honestly, though, I don’t fucking get it. A part of me wouldn’t be surprised if this whole thing is some long con on her part. If she’s pulling Duke’s strings, finding a new way to get under his skin because she’d grown bored of the endless laps around the roller rink. That would explain why RJ went on that kamikaze mission to unseat Duke from his throne.
When Sloane answers the door and finds me standing there, she lets out a weary sigh.
“Nice to see you too,” I say. The rewards for being Sloane’s friend are few and far between.
“What’s up? I’m in the middle of homework.”
“Haven’t heard from you in a while.” I squeeze past her to let myself in when she pretends she’s too busy to catch up with her best friend. “Came to make sure you were still alive.”
“I’ve been busy.” Despite that, she lets me follow her upstairs.
My gaze rests on her ass, hugged by a pair of black yoga pants. Can’t deny I’m disappointed that she’d changed out of her Catholic school uniform. I might have a girlfriend, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate how good Sloane Tresscott looks in a short, pleated skirt.
We enter her bedroom, where I sit on the end of her bed while she leans against her desk. Sloane’s room is the least girly place you’ll ever see. She’s not the sentimental type, so there’s no bulletin board covered with photographs and concert ticket stubs. The only piece of art on the wall is a poster of her favorite band Sleater-Kinney, and the brightest color in the room is the yellow throw pillow I rest my elbows on as I lean back.
“So. What’s keeping you busy?” I ask.
“You know. Life and whatever.”
I raise my eyebrows. “‘Whatever,’ as in RJ again?”
“And other stuff. What’s this about, Silas? I can’t right now.” She fidgets, impatient but also distinctly distracted.
I’ve known Sloane for years, so I can always tell when the gears in her brain are turning. Her focus is continually drifting from me to some mysterious thought snapping its fingers inside her head.
“I told you, I wanted to check in on you. It’s not like you to ghost out.”
The gentle poke penetrates something beneath her hard candy shell, and her demeanor softens. She runs a hand through her dark hair before tucking it behind her ear. “Yeah. Sorry. I wasn’t trying to ghost. Don’t take it personal, okay?”
“Okay.”
She sinks into her desk chair and flashes a little smirk. “How’s Amy?”
“She’s good. How’s RJ?”
“He’s great.”
Something about the way her face goes a little dreamy at the sound of RJ’s name makes me bristle.
“What?” She narrows her eyes at me.
“Nothing,” I lie, then remember it’s practically impossible to deceive this girl.
“Just say it,” she orders.
Fuck it. Normally I’d keep my mouth shut, but I suppose I’ve gotten a little impatient of waiting for Sloane to get her head on straight and stop wasting time with losers.
“Look, I know you’re into the guy, but…if I’m being honest, I think it’s a bad idea. You two as a couple.” I straighten up, shrugging one shoulder. “I think you dodged a bullet breaking up with him after you guys had that huge fight. You should’ve trusted that instinct instead of taking him back.”
“Well, I didn’t ask for your approval, so thanks anyway.”
Her response is precisely what I expected. Sloane hates dissent. She’s got an opinion about everything, but God forbid anyone offer the slightest criticism of her choices. Even when they have her best interest at heart.
“What are friends for?” I crack.
Her forehead suddenly creases. “Speaking of that huge fight,” she starts. Then pauses, her expression growing more and more shrewd. “How’d that happen, anyway?”
“Well, you fucked Fenn. What else did you expect?”