Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 93312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
“It’s me,” Thayer’s deep voice rumbles close to my ear.
I relax instantly, wrapping my arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his bare chest as he carries me up the stairs and into his bedroom. He sits on the bed before he lies back, bringing me with him. His arm is underneath me, holding me close, my head on his chest, my thigh hitched up over his legs, and I slip back into sleep, feeling far too safe for a girl whose heart is in danger of being broken again.
Shayne
“Shayne.”
Thayer’s voice breaks through my consciousness. My mind slowly comes out of my sleep-induced haze, and I blink up at a ceiling that isn’t mine, feeling warmth next to me. Then it all rushes back to me. The window. The fire. Thayer bringing me up to his room sometime in the middle of the night. “I was hoping it was a dream,” I grumble, rolling over and burying my face into Thayer’s pillow.
He’s still shirtless, lying on his back next to me. “Nope. And you’re going to be late for school. Holden’s in the shower, so unless you want him to find you in my bed…” he trails off, waiting for my response.
I sit up quickly, running my hand through my hair. “I’m up.”
Thayer reaches over to hook his hand behind my knee, pulling me over to straddle his stomach. I brace my hands on his chest as his palms flatten on top of my thighs, his fingers slipping under the hem of my shorts, but they don’t go farther than that. “You good?”
I nod, tucking my hair behind my ear.
“We’re going to find out who did it.”
“I know.”
The sound of footsteps in the hall has me rolling off him. I stand, moving away from the bed just as Holden throws the door open, looking between us with suspicious eyes. His hair is wet and he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and black sweats that read Stop Looking at My Dick across the crotch.
“You are not wearing those to school.” I laugh.
“Watch me.” He bounces his eyebrows. “Ready to go?”
I look down at my sleep shorts and spaghetti strap crop top. “Do I look like I’m ready?”
Holden claps his hands together. “Well chop-chop, baby sister.”
I move past him, heading downstairs to grab my backpack. I hastily shoved some clothes inside, grabbing the first things I saw before Thayer and Holden dragged me out of my house last night, which happened to be a pair of boyfriend jeans with holes in the knees, and a tight, plain black t-shirt. I top it off with Thayer’s hoodie, spend two minutes in the downstairs bathroom to brush my teeth, and throw my hair into a ponytail. I pause, looking at my tired reflection. My eyes are puffy, and my cheeks are red, but I didn’t bring any makeup, and truthfully, I don’t care enough to try this morning.
My stomach rolls with the anxiety that only let up while I was next to Thayer. I know it was ‘just’ a window, but the thought that someone might actually want to hurt me—really harm me—has me feeling ill at ease.
“Let’s go,” Holden hollers, pounding on the bathroom door.
I flinch, taking a deep breath, and wipe the miserable look off my face. I swing the door open, giving him the middle finger. He lunges forward, trying to bite it as I walk by, but I’m quicker. We make our way to the door, and Thayer’s standing in the foyer, waiting.
“Watch her.”
I roll my eyes. “No one’s going to do anything at school.” I’m freaked out, but even I know this is overkill.
“Maybe not, but if you watch for the signs, you might find out who’s behind it. Pay attention. If someone’s watching you for a reaction, if you notice people whispering when you walk into a room—”
I huff out a laugh. “Welcome to my everyday life.”
“Not just that. Pay attention to the people who aren’t talking to you. If they’re feeling guilty, they’re likely to avoid you.”
“Somehow I don’t think this person holds any guilt where I’m concerned,” I mutter.
He looks to Holden. “Did you fill Christian in?”
“I will at school. Operation Smother Shayne is in full effect,” he says, throwing an arm over my shoulder.
Today should be fun. And by fun, I mean not at all.
“Are you okay?” Valen asks, squeezing in between Holden and me at the lunch table. Christian sits across from us, doing something on his phone. I sent Valen a text last night, but we were late to school, so I didn’t have time to fill her in on all the details this morning.
“Yeah.” I shrug, aiming for nonchalance. “Just a little creeped out.”
“So, what exactly happened? Someone threw some kind of firebomb through your window?”
“Molotov cocktail,” Holden says around a mouthful of his burger. The sight of it makes me nauseous. Anxiety from everything going on has killed my appetite.