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)
Rolling my eyes, I point to RJ’s crotch.
He looks down, then shrugs. Completely unruffled as he zips up. Then he gives me a wry smile, white teeth shining in the darkness, as he gestures at my outfit, instantly recognizing Fenn’s clothes.
I offer a shrug of my own.
Sighing, RJ shakes his head and descends the first step. He pauses to glance over his shoulder. “Night,” he mouths.
“Night,” I mouth back, then slide into my bedroom and close the door behind me.
CHAPTER 32
SILAS
THIS BEEF WITH SLOANE HAS GONE ON LONG ENOUGH. WE’VE both been more than stubborn since our argument, but it appears her will is holding out longer than mine. Fine, then. I’ll be the bigger person and make the first move toward reconciliation. I miss talking to her. I miss her sarcastic remarks and throaty laughter. If she needs an apology, I can make that sacrifice of pride. Because whatever she says in fits of anger, our friendship is ultimately more important than whatever rhetorical point either of us tried to make.
And honestly, without Amy in the picture constantly questioning our friendship, it’ll be much easier to get back to normal.
Wednesday afternoon before swim practice, I toss my bag down on the bench in the locker room and pull out my phone.
Me: You win. I humbly apologize and throw myself at your mercy.
Me: Forgive me.
Me: Let’s meet up and talk?
Sloane doesn’t reply right away. Probably driving home from school. But I know we’ll be able to put this behind us once we have a real conversation.
With only a few minutes before Coach wants us warming up in the pool, I throw my phone back in my bag and get changed. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about locker assignments. RJ struts in with Lawson to the locker two down from mine.
It’s become nearly intolerable sharing oxygen with him. The way RJ’s practically claimed ownership over Sloane and the entirety of her social life makes me goddamn homicidal. Lately my best tack is simply avoiding eye contact so I don’t get sucked into another self-righteous lecture about boundaries and loyalty from a guy who’s been lying about who and what he is since the moment he got here. In a few short months, he’s managed to turn everyone but Lawson against me. The fact that Sloane and Fenn can’t see how he’s manipulated them is beyond frustrating.
As I’m fitting my cap on, I can’t help noticing RJ with his phone out. His thumbs tap across the screen seconds before my own phone buzzes on top of my bag.
Sloane: I’m not ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be.
“Did you do this?” I growl at RJ.
He has the nerve to stare at me blankly. “Huh?”
“Don’t fuck with me. Sloane. Just now.”
He glances at Lawson for clarification, but my best friend merely shrugs. Swim goggles dangling from one hand, RJ gives me an irritated look. “Dude, I have no idea what you’re babbling about.”
“Then show me your phone.”
He snorts. “Fuck off.”
“If you did nothing wrong, then there’s nothing to hide,” I shoot back. “I saw you texting Sloane right before she refused to meet up with me. You told her to. Just admit it.”
RJ stares at me. “I can’t tell Sloane shit. And if you understood her at all, you’d get that.”
Disbelief slams into me like a freight train. “Don’t act like you know her better than I do, all right? I was in her life way before you got here.”
“Come on, girls,” Lawson mockingly interjects. “You’re both pretty. Let’s take it down a notch.”
RJ and I are all but toe-to-toe on either side of the bench. Part of me wishes he’d throw a punch, so I could finally get him kicked off this team. Maybe kicked out of Sandover altogether.
“And it must burn you up,” RJ tells me. Goading.
“What’s that?”
“Finally knowing that all this time it wasn’t Duke or her dad that kept Sloane from being with you. She’s just not into you.”
My hands tingle with the urge to break his face. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?”
“Okay then.” Lawson once again attempts to defuse the situation. “Why don’t we table this discussion for never?”
“And now,” RJ continues, flashing a cheerless smile, “she doesn’t rate you at all. How does it feel to be demoted from the friend zone?”
I shove him. Two hands to the chest. He comes back at me just as quickly, about to jump the bench, fists clenched, before Lawson throws himself between us and holds him back.
“Come on, man,” RJ taunts. “You’ve been begging for this fight. I’m right here, asshole.”
“Nice temper. You argue with Sloane like that too?”
“Watch your fucking mouth.”
RJ makes a fool of himself having to be dragged away by Lawson in front of the entire team. I figured that’d be the end of it, but no such luck. RJ’s need to be the chest-slamming gorilla in the room doesn’t stop when we get in the pool.