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)
I blink up at him.
His eyes flick back and forth between mine. “We need to get you back together with him. That’s the only way he’ll stop spiraling. That’s the only way we fix him. By fixing your relationship.” While I’m reeling from that, he adds, “But that’s it. That’s all you need to worry about, you and him. Not our friendship. Not whatever the fuck comes to your mind. Just you. And him.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Who: The Bubblegum
Where: Dorm room at St. Mary’s School for Troubled Teenagers
When: 2:30 AM; right after Reign drops Echo off at campus
Dear Holly,
I belong with him.
With Lucas.
It’s not a novel idea. It’s not an idea that I’ve never had, getting back together with him. Especially in those early days when everything had happened. But then time passed on, without any contact from him, and I lost hope.
It’s back now though.
It’s back and I’m afraid.
I shouldn’t hope. I shouldn’t dream.
I shouldn’t even think about it.
But I am and it’s all because of… him.
The guy who never wanted us to be together in the first place.
The guy who’s always made it clear how much he hated me for his best friend, who I’d assumed would’ve done all that he could to keep Lucas and me apart over the years, is the one who came up with this idea.
He’s the one who’s going to help me get Lucas back.
Again, I should be afraid but I’m not.
I’m so very strangely not afraid at all.
Because of what I saw tonight.
In his reddish-brown eyes.
That guilt. That regret. That pain that I feel for Lucas.
And so despite years of hatred and friction between us, I’m doing this.
I’m taking his help.
I’m getting my ex-boyfriend back and I’m fixing everything.
Including my very bad habit of thinking about it. Whenever he’s near.
The kiss.
That watermelon-y, lemonade-y and summery kiss.
~Echo
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Bandit
I’d heard stories about it.
About St. Mary’s School for Troubled Teenagers, an all-girls reform school.
And I admit that like a piece of shit, I’d always assumed things about it. About the girls who go there. How wild they must be. How crazy and insane, down for whatever the fuck. I mean, you gotta be, right? For you to end up there?
I’m a pig, what can I say.
And asshole pigs like me don’t think about anything deep, anything that really matters.
Things like it’s a reform school.
Quote unquote a prison.
With brick walls and concrete buildings and fucking bars on the windows.
Things designed to trap. To suffocate.
To cage.
I realized all that later, much later. Too late actually.
After my father had sealed her fate.
And since I was responsible for that, for her life being turned upside down and shattered, I thought the least I could do was leave her alone. The least I could do was stop keeping tabs on her. Like I used to, back when she still lived at the manor and Lucas and I were in New York.
I’d tell myself that it was for Lucas.
To make sure that Lucas’s girl was okay.
And it was.
Well, probably eighty percent of it.
Okay, fine. Sixty-five.
Fuck, okay.
Twenty. Twenty percent.
The rest was all me. Me being my usual piece of shit, snake best friend.
Anyway, when she was sent to St. Mary’s though, I backed off. I left her alone.
And that’s why I didn’t know.
I had no idea that she was still trapped in that place. Where I had to drop her off tonight, and then watch her as she struggled to climb over that wall.
I say watch because she wouldn’t let me help her.
She was very clear about that after she fucking freaked out and screamed when I put my hands on her. So like a motherfucker I had to back off.
I wanted to punch something. Wanted to break something with my rage.
“Jesus, fuck. Go down already.”
I blink at the voice.
And come out of my furious thoughts, realizing where I am.
The harsh overhead lights. The smell of sweat and blood. The thuds of boots on concrete. The groans, the grunts, the sound of flesh hitting flesh.
The burning sting and the painful throb of the punch.
That Ledger, one of my good friends, just laid on me.
Among many other punches and jabs, since we’re in the ring at the Yo Mama’s.
Panting, I focus on him. “Then stop hitting me like a fucking girl and make it happen.”
He’s panting too, sweat running down his face and body in rivulets. Putting his hands on his hips, he stares at me. “You’re in rare form tonight.”
I am.
Mostly because I’ve been itching to get into the ring for a couple of days now. Especially after what my brother had sprung on me the other night.
And what I found out tonight about her.
Meaning, I need to get fucked up.
And I need him to get his act together and do it for me.
I wipe the blood off my split lip. “Yeah, you too. Except you suck.”