Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 175455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 877(@200wpm)___ 702(@250wpm)___ 585(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 175455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 877(@200wpm)___ 702(@250wpm)___ 585(@300wpm)
I knew he wouldn’t, so I’m feeling pretty smug. I stand and let my arm fall from around him. Then I flash him a little smile and wink like he did in history class, make my way around the table, and walk right out of the cafeteria.
Nothing horrible happens over the rest of the week. I go to school, study, and work. Carter doesn’t commit any additional crimes, as far as I can see. I don’t think I won the war that easily, though, so even his silence makes me worry about what he’s planning.
He hasn’t cashed in his second booty call yet, either. I know he planned to save the third for homecoming, but now I’m not going to homecoming with him, so he had better pick a different time and place.
It occurs to me I should have given him a strict window when I made this deal. Like, three times within the next four weeks. I hadn’t been in a position to negotiate terms—or even think about terms—but now that circumstances are what they are, I’m wondering how long Carter could string me along with time two and time three. I suppose it wasn’t a very honorable agreement to begin with, so maybe I don’t have to keep up my end of the bargain… but even if it was a sex agreement, that doesn’t sit right with me. I don’t like to renege on my obligations, and I know Carter wouldn’t like it.
I’m not going to like if I’m in Pennsylvania settling in for my first semester of college and I get a text from Carter in New York telling me I better take a weekend road trip, because it’s time for our second round of math test sex.
If I ever make another deal with him, I need to set clearer terms. I gave him way too much leeway on this one. It could be a real headache, if he wants it to be.
By the time Friday rolls around, I think maybe it’s all over. Maybe he realized this was also the wrong method for getting me back and he is concocting a new idea…
Or maybe he’ll just give up altogether. I’m not proud of the fact that it makes me a little sad to consider. I know I won’t like when he moves on. Considering he went so long without a girlfriend before and he’s not fond of girlfriends to begin with, I’m hoping it will remain that way for the rest of the school year. Then he can go off to college and I won’t have to witness it. As long as we’re in school together, I have to live in fear of the day I see him with someone else, see him looking at her the way he looked at me, and know he’s not just doing it to piss me off, like the Jenna situation.
I’m kept awake a good part of Thursday night worrying about that and my math test, so I make sure to stop and grab myself an iced coffee on my way to school. I’m early this morning anyway, so I have time for a caffeine fix. I text Grace on my way and ask if she wants me to pick one up for her, but she doesn’t respond. Just in case she is watching her sugar intake today, I don’t bring her one.
When I get to school, I feel naively good about the day. It’s Friday, so I only have to make it through a few hours, then it’s weekend. Even better, I don’t have to work tonight, so I actually get to go home after school, and since there’s no school tomorrow, I can have some down time tonight. Tomorrow I study, since I still have to kick Carter’s rally girl’s ass, academically speaking.
I spot Grace’s car in the parking lot with an empty spot next to it, so I nab it before anyone else does. Close to the building—another win. I can’t help smiling as I get out of the car… at least, until I see Grace crying in hers.
My heart drops and I slam my door shut, hoping the noise will get her attention. She looks up and meets my eyes. Even from the distance and through the window, I can see her eyes are red and puffy and her nose is red.
I hustle over to the car and open the driver’s side door. She doesn’t even have the car running, so the air isn’t blowing and her car is an oven. “Grace, what’s wrong?”
Sniffling into a Kleenex, she looks up at me. “I’m sorry. I’m having a really bad couple days.”
Leaning down so I’m closer to her level, I ask, “Why? What’s going on?”
“Scout got out of the yard last night. We never let him out of the fenced area, he’s too little and he runs after cars.”