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)
“I didn’t pay for my food,” I explain. “I was going to, but—” The prospect of mentioning his name trips me up, and I pause awkwardly before admitting, “Hunter bought my dinner. He was in line ahead of me and he got the same thing, so he just… paid for both orders.”
Mom gets that look on her face like I’m talking about having a tea party with the antichrist yet again. “Ah. Good old Hunter.”
“I really don’t understand what you have against him,” I tell her as I fasten my seatbelt. “I wish you’d give him a chance. I honestly believe you’d like him if you did.”
“I’m not not giving him a chance.”
“You hate him for no reason,” I state, cocking an eyebrow at her.
“I do not hate him. You’re putting words in my mouth,” she says, watching in the rear-view mirror, then looking over her shoulder as she backs out of the driveway. “I just think you’re too young for a Hunter, that’s all. I was prepared for all this to start in a couple years—I’ve ordered the blueprints for the tower I’m going to have built in the back yard and everything. But now here you are, liking a boy before I’m ready. It’s so rude.”
I crack a smile. “A tower, huh?”
“The brick and mortar is already stashed in the garage. I got a good deal buying bulk.”
“I guess I better start growing my hair out then,” I tell her.
“Nope. That won’t work. I’m going to cut your hair every six weeks to make sure no stupid boys can climb it and thwart my crafty thinking.” She taps her temple. “See? I’ve thought of everything.”
I shake my head at her, turning my attention to watch out the window. I still think she’s being close-minded about Hunter, but I’m glad we’re not fighting over him this time. My mom has always been my rock, and there’s nothing worse than being in a fight with her.
___
After a long day of not seeing Hunter, I finally spot him in the cafeteria. He’s not looking my way and we don’t get a chance to talk, but I just like being near him. Sara talks my ear off about going to the mall with them this weekend, and even though Wally hasn’t paid her any attention either, she is not discouraged.
We go outside for recess and Sara takes a break from her Wally chatter to admire my new jacket. I told my mom it was faux leather, but it’s the real thing—black and slim cut. I feel really pretty in it, and it reminds me of what Hunter’s mom said about makeup. I haven’t worn any of the stuff she bought me yet. I did slather on some moisturizer after my shower this morning, but I thought my mom might notice if I put on mascara.
Our post-lunch break passes quickly and then it’s back to class. The rest of the school day drags and then it’s finally time to go home. I look around for Hunter as I’m making my way toward the woods, but I don’t see him.
I’m just a little past the bridge when my phone vibrates in my pocket. When I draw it out, I see a message from an unknown number on the screen.
“What are you doing tonight?”
I scowl at the screen and type back, “Who is this?”
I can almost sense the casual impatience in the response. “Who do you think it is?”
“Someone who’s about to be blocked?” I shoot back.
“You like me, so that would be unfortunate. How about I give you clues?”
“How about you tell me who gave you my number?”
“It was Sara,” he answers.
A grin splits my face. “Hunter.”
“Damn, you got that one fast.”
“That dirty rat, giving out my number to sketchy dudes.”
“Right?” he shoots back. “Don’t worry though, I told her not to hand it out to any OTHER sketchy dudes, so I’m the only one you have to worry about.”
Every step I take feels a little lighter now that I’m texting him.
“Back to my original question,” he types. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Homework and then watching movies with my mom,” I answer. “What about you?”
“Lame. Can’t you blow off your mom?”
“No?” I quickly add, “Why, did you have another idea?”
“You owe me a movie,” he states.
“Oh, do I?” I ask, barely able to contain my pleasure that he wants to go to a movie with me.
“Yep. My mom’s going out with the asshole tonight, so I thought maybe we could grab some food and see a movie.”
I would consider blowing off my mom for that, but I’m 90% sure she won’t go for it. “The problem with that plan is that if I told my mom about it, she would insist it sounds like a date.”
“It would sound like a date because it would be a date,” he informs me.