Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
Since Valerie is apparently my arch nemesis in life, that hits a bit differently.
I end up deciding not to text her.
I don’t text anybody.
Feeling blue, I curl up in bed and go to sleep early tonight.
Chapter Thirty Seven
Riley
Two weeks pass.
I don’t hear from Hunter again.
He doesn’t talk to me in school—when he even bothers to show up.
There are two more Mondays, but no more flower deliveries.
He doesn’t show up at my work.
His absence is an aching spot in my heart nothing else can fill.
On Friday, I’m sitting at my usual table alone for lunch. Sara doesn’t sit with me anymore, so I bring a book to read every day.
I’m working my way through Hemingway’s To Have and Have Not when suddenly my solitude is interrupted.
I look up without even a guess as to who it might be, but if I had a hundred guesses, I wouldn’t have made it to who is actually sitting there.
Ryden Sherlock?
“Hey,” he says casually, like we have lunch together all the time.
I frown, glancing past him at Hunter’s table where he belongs. I look back at Sherlock, watching as he uncaps a bottle of water and starts to eat his lunch like he’s staying.
“Hi,” I say uncertainly.
He nods at my book. “Any good?”
I lift the book and look at it like I’m not sure. “It’s all right. Hemingway isn’t my favorite, but it’s better than some of his other works.”
Sherlock nods. “If it’s not about an old guy on a boat, it almost has to be.”
I crack a smile. “Yeah, that’s not one of my favorites. But I read a lot, and I actually think it’s important to read books I don’t like sometimes, too. Just to mix things up, keep my mind open. You read Hemingway?”
“I read that one when it was required for school, then figured I’d try something else to see if it sucked any less. I’ll never understand why they recommend the worst fucking books for required reading. Is the goal to make people hate reading? If so, great job, keep up the good work.”
“Ugh, I know. I mean, I like a lot of classics, but the required reading list definitely leaves a lot to be desired. I think they should open it up a bit, vary the titles, add some newer material. There are plenty of excellent books out there, some that were written this century.”
“Wild,” he says, shaking his head.
I smile bigger. “I didn’t know you were a reader.”
“Well, you don’t know me,” he points out.
“That’s true.”
“I figure now that Hunter has taken Riley Bishop off the banned girls list, I’d flip through, see if anything caught my interest.”
“Oh, did you?” I shake my head, but I can’t help smiling.
He shoots me a devilish smile of his own, then takes a bite of his sandwich.
I’ve never paid much attention to Ryden Sherlock, mainly because he’s a friend of Hunter’s. He plays football, but he doesn’t look like a jock. He has wild black hair and piercing blue eyes. He’s attractive, but not in the clean-cut, all-American way.
Hunter’s beautiful, but there’s a rougher look to Sherlock, an edginess. I’m pretty sure he picked Anderson’s pocket to get Hunter the keys for the stunt he pulled at homecoming, so it’s probably safe to assume he’s not too worried about what most people think. He’s a rule-breaker.
I kinda like that.
But he’s Hunter’s friend, so even if the possibility existed that I could like Ryden Sherlock, I can’t.
Instead of letting him think I might be open to him, I open my book back up and resume reading. It’s ruder with him sitting here than it was when I was alone, especially since we’re the only two people at the table, but I’m also aware of the possibility that the longer he sits here, the greater the chance Hunter will glance this way.
I’m not sure how he would react, but I wouldn’t want him to turn on his friend.
I don’t think Ryden Sherlock would be fazed by a loss in popularity, but I didn’t care about any of that either. It still sucked to be treated like shit by my classmates.
I don’t want Hunter to bully him, and he might if he thinks he’s sniffing around me.
“What are you doing tonight?”
My heart seizes. I blink at the page of my book, then slowly look up at my lunch companion. “Me?”
“No, the other person at this table.”
“Um… nothing.”
“You’re not working?”
I shake my head. “Not tonight.”
He nods. “Good.”
“Why is that good?”
He takes a bite of his sandwich and takes his time chewing, just to leave me hanging in suspense. Then he looks at me across the table and says, “You’re coming to Hunter’s party with me tonight.”
My heart sinks so hard, I think it leaves my body. “What?” I’m so stunned, I laugh uneasily. “No, I’m not.”