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)
He gestures to the bench beside me, occupied by the school stuff I’ve spread out there. “Mind if I sit?”
“I think Carter might,” I offer, since Carter’s word holds more weight with Jake than mine.
A cynical smile tugs at his lips. “I think Carter knows he’s the only asshole you’re interested in.” Gesturing to the full stadium, he says, “Place is full. I just wanna watch the game.”
Sighing heavily, I begin gathering my things to make room. “Fine.”
Once I’ve gathered my things in my lap, Jake scoots down the aisle in front of me and takes a seat beside me. It’s more awkward now, but I situate my stuff in my lap and look down at the field. I don’t know what’s going on, but I spot Carter in his blue and white jersey. Even from the distance, I can’t help noticing how much more imposing he looks with all his gear on. Mm, he’s so sexy. He glances my way, and on impulse, I wave at him.
I can’t tell from here if he cracks a smile, but he lifts his hand in a brief wave back.
“Don’t fuckin’ distract the guy,” Jake snaps. “We’ve got a lot ridin’ on this game.”
“I wasn’t distracting him,” I say, scowling at Jake. “They’re just standin’ on the field. Obviously I wouldn’t wave in the middle of a play.”
Shaking his head, Jake takes a swig from his Longhorn water bottle. Judging from the strong smell that wafts my way, it’s not water inside this week, either. “Just let him focus, fuck.”
I huff, returning to my notes. “You’re the distraction,” I inform him as I turn the page. “Now he looked up here and saw you sittin’ next to me. If he gets distracted, that will be why, not because I waved.”
“Yeah, I’m sure Carter Mahoney feels real fuckin’ threatened by me,” Jake mutters dryly. “Bet he cries about it in his marble-floored money pit every damn night.”
“I didn’t say he feels threatened, but he is protective, so I doubt he would want you sitting by me.”
“Why? Afraid I might pin you down on the bleachers and take you for myself? Actually, maybe he should be. Apparently you’re into that sort of thing.”
He’s such a dick. I’m just going to ignore him.
After a minute, he asks, “What are you studyin’ for anyway?”
“History,” I murmur, dragging my finger down the page of my neatly written notes to find the answer I’m looking for.
“No, I mean, didn’t Mahoney knock you up? What do you need to study for? You’re set for life.”
Looking over at him, I remark, “You are obsessed with Carter’s money, aren’t you? No, I’m not pregnant. That’s just a rumor.”
Jake cocks a skeptical eyebrow. “It came directly from Carter. He started a rumor about himself?”
“It’s a long story. I wasn’t pregnant, he was just pissing on a tree. Telling a bunch of teenage guys I’m knocked up was an effective way of makin’ me unappealing.”
“Nice guy, that Carter,” he deadpans.
“The nicest.”
“Not controlling at all,” he adds.
“Doesn’t even know the meaning of the word,” I volley back.
“Well, my whole congregation prayed for your soul last weekend,” he tells me.
“Their efforts are much appreciated,” I offer back, wishing he would stop talking. It’s hard to study with him being so noisy.
A moment of blessed silence passes, then he ruins it by saying, “Bet you liked watchin’ Erika fall, huh?”
I flip a page more violently, even though I think I already passed the information I needed. “Not especially, no.”
Jake laughs. “Bullshit. Any girl would get a charge out of watchin’ their cheating ass boyfriend take out a social hit on the other girl.”
“He didn’t cheat, and it wasn’t—” Cutting myself off, I tell him, “You know what? I need to study. It’s been a lovely chat, but I need to get back to it.”
“Why won’t you just admit it? He cheated, but you took him back anyway because he’s fuckin’ Carter Mahoney. You did the same shit Erika did. You drive me crazy with that shit. If you’d just admit why you do things, you’d annoy me a whole hell of a lot less. This nice girl routine is bullshit.”
“I don’t actually care about being a nice girl, Jake,” I tell him. “I am who I am, and if people like it, cool. If they don’t, fuck ‘em. You want me to be someone I’m not, that’s the problem. You want to vilify me, you want to see me as shallow and meaner than I am, you want me to like Carter for his money, and you want him to have cheated, because wouldn’t that just serve me right? You wish ill on me, but it’s not for anything I’ve done, it’s just what you need to see in order to be the good guy in your own narrative. Here’s the problem. You’re not the good guy. You’d be a much better guy if you just admitted to your fuck-ups and imperfections. If you want to be the good guy, act like one, don’t try to warp everyone else to make yourself look better. That’s not just lazy, it’s cowardly and pathetic.”