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)
He’s also climbed off his bike and looking down at me, he says, “Yeah.”
My eyes shoot up to his, at his raspy voice.
As if he’s woken from slumber as well and I believe he has.
Because he did come out on the other side of it. Like me.
With my heart racing in my chest, I whisper, “What did you do?”
He takes a moment to answer. “Broke something.”
I frown. “Broke what?”
“Something that mattered.”
“What does that —”
“Here.”
I know he did that deliberately. To put me off from questioning him.
And I’m so intrigued right now that I want to stay on it. I want to push him.
But I won’t.
Because I feel like what we have right now, is fragile.
And super new.
I don’t want to poke at it lest I burst it.
Besides, there are other things that demand my attention. Especially when I see what he means by ‘here.’
It’s between us, in the palm of his hand.
Looking up, I ask, “A phone?”
“Take it.”
I look at it again before glancing back up. “You want me to… You want me to take this phone?”
“Yes.”
I blink a couple of times. “Why?”
“Because you don’t have one,” he replies patiently.
“But I do,” I tell him.
“At St. Mary’s,” he clarifies.
He’s right about that. I don’t have a phone at St. Mary’s.
Personal technology of any kind is prohibited, including cell phones, laptops, iPads and whatnot. If needed, we use the school-issued, communal phones and computers.
But that still doesn’t explain why he’s giving me a phone.
He takes mercy on me though and says, “We’re working together, right? Colleagues, if you will.” I nod and he goes on, “So you need to be able to contact me and I, you. In case of emergencies.”
“Oh.”
“It’s easy to hide.” At this, I go speechless but he launches into a whole explanation. “Since you aren’t allowed to have a phone at your piece of shit school, I got you a flip phone. It’s also a piece of shit but it’s small, compact and you can easily hide it. Probably in your chest of drawers or in the back of your closet. Under your mattress.” He looks up then. “Just make sure to hide it in a place where you can get to it easily but no one else can. And always, always switch it off when you’re not using it. And fucking always have it on silent. No vibrate either, do you understand? And do not, under any circumstances, carry it in your backpack or your pockets. Just put it in a safe place and leave it there.”
For several seconds after he’s finished instructing me on how to hide an illegal phone, I simply stare at him.
He was instructing, wasn’t he?
In a sharp and a stern tone. Rattling off things to do and not do.
I mean, I probably would’ve figured it out on my own. Well, except the vibrate thing. I definitely would’ve left it on vibrate.
Oh, and I definitely, definitely would’ve carried it everywhere with me.
“Why not?” I ask.
“Why not what?”
“Carry it with me in my backpack.”
He stares at me for a second, then, “Because you don’t want anyone to find it on you.”
“Right.” I blink. “Because even if someone does find it in my room, which they won’t because I will hide it nicely, I still have a chance of denying that it’s mine. But I can’t do that if it’s found on me.”
He nods, a short and stern nod, much like his pedantic instructions. “Take it.”
I still don’t. “H-how do you know?”
“Know what?”
“That I’m not allowed to have a phone.” I swallow. “And that I have a dresser and a closet in my room.”
Well, the latter could be just a fluke.
I mean, it’s not uncommon to have this kind of stuff in your dorm room. But something tells me that that’s not the reason why he knew.
His lips purse slightly. As if he doesn’t like the question and doesn’t want to answer it.
He even goes so far as to look away from me.
But I’m not letting this go. “Reign?”
He sighs, big, his chest expanding, his broad shoulders moving. “Asked around.” Then, “After I read the manual.”
“What?”
Again, it’s clear from his closed-up features that he doesn’t like this line of conversation. But tough luck, I’m not letting this go. I move closer to him and prod. “Reign, you r-read the St. Mary’s manual?”
Another sigh, just as long and hard as the last one. “You gotta know the rules to break ’em, yeah?”
“A-and then, you asked around?”
“Yes. To make sure.”
“To make sure what?”
“That you don’t get caught.” A second later, he adds, “Because you have a knack for it, don’t you?”
I do.
I did get caught.
I was too much of a good girl to be careful last time. So he’s teaching me how to break rules the right way and keeping me safe.
Protecting me.
“Are you going to take it or not?” he asks when all I do is stare at him, stunned and breathless.