Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
“Yeah, no. He doesn’t need anything from you.”
God, I hate him.
I hate him so so much.
“He was noticing me too, you know,” I say then, unable to stop myself.
Probably not the wisest thing to say to him.
But I’m getting a little tired of his taunts.
And his fucking gatekeeping.
“Well,” he says, tilting his head to the side, “you can’t blame him, can you? You look pretty as fuck.”
“You know what, I —”
“But I don’t think he’s going for desperation these days.” I flinch again and he goes on, “So really, I’m saving you all the trouble here.” He dips his chin. “You’re welcome.”
I would’ve laughed.
If I wasn’t so furious.
Because the idea of him saving me from anything is ludicrous.
It’s ridiculous, farcical, absurd. Preposterous.
“I didn’t say thank you.”
“I didn’t mind.”
“And I can save myself. I don’t need your help.”
“I seem to recall differently though.”
I stiffen. “Don’t go there.”
“Yeah, why?” He looks me up and down. “You threatening my armoire again?”
He did not just say that.
He did not just mock my actions from two years ago.
The ones that I regret down to my bones.
Down to my very soul.
The stupid, reckless actions that destroyed my life. That changed the course of it by sending me to a reform school.
So when he refused to help me and called me names, I got angry. I got crazy angry. So much so that I snuck into his bedroom and destroyed it like he destroyed my heart.
But that’s not the worst part.
The worst part is that he’s right. I am threatening his armoire again; apparently it was from Italy, something that his grandmother had given him and his brother a few years back. I didn’t know that when I broke it though; they told me later, at the police station.
I am also threatening his nightstand, his desk, his fucking computer, his bed, the mirror in his bathroom, his stupid windows, the lamps and everything else that I broke that night.
Sometimes I still can’t believe that I did all that. That I was angry enough, heartbroken enough, crazy enough to actually commit a crime.
And that’s the scary part, isn’t it?
That he can make me do that. That this guy can make me hate him so much that I destroyed my life for him.
I ruined it. I wrecked it.
My life. My parents’ life.
I vandalized their employer’s son’s room. It’s a miracle that they didn’t get fired. A miracle that they still get to work there.
And that’s exactly why I can’t be in his presence.
Reign Davidson is my kryptonite.
He’s my catnip.
My personal poison. My insanity drug.
He’s my anti-soulmate who makes me sick with hate.
“I want you,” I repeat on a low voice, “to get away from me or I’m going to end you.”
Amused, he drawls, “You’ve always been a little too drama, haven’t you?”
I clench my teeth at his reminder. “I swear to fucking God, I’ll do it. I swear it. I promise it.”
“And a promise is a fucking oath, isn’t it?”
If I could cover my ears, I would do it.
If I could reach into my brain and take out the piece of it that has Reign Davidson written all over it, I’d do that.
As it is, I don’t think it’s going to help, covering my ears. And I don’t have a fucking knife to stab myself with and perform a lobotomy.
So I can’t stop the memories flashing through my mind. The memories of when I said the same thing to him, the very first night we’d met.
I do it though.
I somehow shut it down and growl, “You’re dead. I —”
“Take my advice,” he speaks over me, all amusement vanished, “return the dress and forget about him.”
And then he steps back.
Shoving his hands down into his pockets again, he says, “It was nice seeing you, Echo. I hope we don’t have to do it again.” Then, “And it’s been two years, two months and twelve days.”
With that, he leaves.
And I realize that things have changed. That we still hate each other but now he has the upper hand. He has Lucas and I don’t. And he’ll do everything in his power to keep us away from each other.
He’ll do everything in his power to keep me from getting to my ex-boyfriend.
CHAPTER TEN
Who: The Bubblegum
Where: Jupiter’s bedroom in Bardstown, where Echo’s staying for the weekend
When: 3:10 AM; the night of The Horny Bard
Dear Holly,
I saw him tonight.
For the first time in two years. Very first time since that night.
And I don’t think I handled it very well.
It didn’t go anything like I’d imagined and you already know how much and how many times I’ve imagined it. Imagined seeing the guy I kissed on the night of my sixteenth birthday.
The guy I hate. The wrong guy.
The guy who called me a slut for kissing him.
And I wish, I freaking wish, that that was all.