Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 106754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
He tells me about how he made lunch for them, how they had a nice meal, and talked about how hard it is without our parents. What a shame it is that we lost touch, and that we should stick together.
“I didn’t call her sis once.” He winks at me. “You know, wouldn’t be good for the plan we have.”
This goes on and on and on.
“And then she said she was cold, and I let her borrow my hoodie. She said she missed the smell of me,” he finishes, and I want to fucking strangle him.
“Your plan is genius,” Parker commends me. “I’m so glad you thought of that. I can’t wait to get what is rightfully ours. I’ve been thinking about what area I want to move to later,” he says thoughtfully as though it’s all a done deal, and finally, I’ve had enough.
“Parker,” I say, reminding myself to tread carefully. Once my brother is hooked on an idea, it’s hard to turn him off it. And if he thinks for one moment, I’m telling him not to do it, he’ll go ahead just to spite me. “We were so drunk last night.” I chuckle.
“Hammered,” he says with a wide grin.
I nod. “And we had some crazy ideas, huh?” I ask.
He nods again, tearing off a chunk of brie I bought earlier and stuffing it in his mouth.
“I don’t know whether that idea was… my best,” I admit. He loves it when I’m wrong, so he should fall for this. Guess it’s the younger brother syndrome.
“Kade,” he says in a more serious tone. “You’ve had some bad ideas and done some pretty stupid stuff. But that one?” His eyes glisten, and I already fucking know this will end up a mess. “That one was pure gold.”
“Parker…” I try again, but he’s already launched into another tirade about June and how she will pay for everything she did to us. It’s getting harder and harder not to punch him.
Finally, I fake a headache—which is becoming increasingly more real—and head into my room. I don’t think I’ve ever been more thankful to have some privacy. I lie on my bed and think about what I’ve done. June keeps intruding on my thoughts, her name dancing before me, her full lips shaped in the letters that form my name, taunting me.
I say fuck it hours later, after two painkillers and a tumbler of whiskey burning my throat. I get my phone, and I hold it for a long time before finally calling her number.
It rings and rings.
“Hello, you’ve reached the private number of June Wildfox. Please leave a message after the tone,” her soft voice informs me, the words a sharp contrast to her innocence.
I’m thankful and upset at the same time that she didn’t answer.
And I’m pretty sure I call again and again, just so I can listen to the sound of her voice before I fall asleep. This is what June fucking Wildfox does to me.
She is on my mind night and day.
If I thought it was hard to stop thinking about her before I tasted her lips, I know it’s impossible now. I see her everywhere and still feel her touch on my sensitive skin. I jerk off, imagining it’s her hand that’s bringing me pleasure. I deal with my guilty conscience and try to ignore the hurt when she doesn’t call, all the while thankful for it—because I know she should stay away because we’re bad together.
Scratch that.
Together, we’re perfect. Her lithe body, my huge strong build. Her dark hair, my dark crop. Her green eyes, my murky gray pair. She is light, and I am dark, but together it just makes sense. But our parents said we shouldn’t. And June seems to agree because she stays away.
And the worst part is the fact that she doesn’t stay away from Parker. It’s the other way around—the two spend more and more time together as the days pass. And even worse, I have to listen to their escapades night and fucking day because Parker won’t shut up about them.
It’s all about June these days.
June bought me this shirt; June took me to lunch at this restaurant. June wants to get me an opening at an art gallery; June gave me tickets to this concert.
I don’t want to tell him she’s basically supporting him, because everything Parker tells me about our stepsister involves her giving him stuff or money. You’re her bitch, I want to tell Parker viciously. And she’ll never see you as anything but her stepbrother.
But I don’t say a word even though it’s hard to stop myself. I don't want to be the obsessive twin. I don't want to be the one who falls asleep dialing June's number without a single answer, either, but I am. To top it all off, I feel disconnected from my brother. He doesn’t have a clue about the kiss June and I shared. He doesn’t even know I’ve had a crush on her for years.