Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 48601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
“You know last night was fucking amazing,” she breathes, her fingers sliding over my chest as she looks up into my eyes with heat in hers.
“But?” I grin. “There’s a but in there.”
She giggles. “No, the only but is that I have to get to school. And so do you!”
“Okay, okay. Fine.” I hold my hands up. “You want to hear my idea though?”
She grins. “Sure.”
“I get dressed, and then I can drive us both in. We can grab breakfast or coffee on the way in.”
I grin widely, and I go in to kiss her, when suddenly, a shadow crosses her face. And before I know it, she’s pulling away from me and turning to her desk. She starts to stuff books and her laptop into her bag as I just stand there naked and confused like a fucking jackass.
“Uh, or not? If you’re not hungry for breakfast, we can just—”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Jamison,” she says quietly.
“Fine, fuck breakfast. We’ll get coffee at the drive-through.”
She goes still, her shoulders stiffening before she turns back to me.
“I mean going to school together. I think it’s a terrible idea.”
I frown.
“Why?”
“Uh, because?”
My frown deepens. “Because what.”
“Because you’re going to be my stepbrother!” she hisses quietly.
I stop, my brow furrowing as my mouth opens.
“Wait, seriously?”
She blushes. “Yes. I mean, look, last night…” she swallows, biting her lip. “Last night was amazing, but it’s not like we can just show up to school as a couple, you know?”
I shake my head.
“Huh? Of course, we can.”
Ramona pales as she shakes her head. “No, Jamison, we can’t. And you know it.”
“No, I don’t know it,” I growl, stepping close to her. “Look, what’s the problem here?”
“The problem is, our parents are getting married in a matter of weeks, which makes us stepbrother and stepsister, and so we can’t just ‘show up to school together’ looking like a couple?”
I roll my eyes. “Are you fucking kidding?”
“No, Jamison, I’m—”
“Who fucking cares?” I hiss. “Who fucking cares that our parents—”
“Me!” she yells suddenly, her face immediately going red.
“Me, Jamison! I care, okay!?”
The room goes silent, and my jaw clenches as my brow furrows.
Fuck this.
“Fine,” I growl, turning and going for the door. “See you at school.”
I let the door slam behind me as I pad down the hall to my own room, my mind stewing.
****
I’m stewing later, prowling the halls between classes, ignoring everything around me. I’m not pissed at her for blowing me off—I mean, I get it. Kind of. I get that us being a thing publicly would raise some eyebrows. The thing is, I also just don’t really care that much. Ramona does, though. And to an extent, I get it. I’m just pissed at the idea of little miss perfect getting all flustered that I might just make things messy for her.
And it just sticks, the whole fucking day.
“Scott.”
I blink out of my swirling thoughts at the sound of my name, and when I turn, I catch Coach Kirby, Winchester’s swim coach, nodding at me from the doorway to the guys locker room. Apparently, I’ve wandered close to the gym in my stewing, meandering walk.
“Hey, Coach.”
He just eyes me, a half smile on his lips as he nods slowly.
I frown.
“What?”
“Join the team.”
I grin, shaking my head. This isn’t the first time he’s barked up this tree. In fact, he’s been on me ever since the semester started. And the thing is, I’m not even that opposed to the idea of being on the swim team. I mean, I love to swim, first of all. It clears my head and takes me out of my own bullshit long enough to think things through. But, team sports? Or organized sports in general?
Yeah, not my thing, at all.
“We gonna do this dance again, Coach?”
He chuckles. “C’mon, Jamison. You know you want to.”
“I’m good, really.”
“No, I know you are. That’s why I want you on the team.”
I snort a laugh. “You’re twisting my words.”
“Yup. Is it working?”
I shake my head and he sighs.
“What do you have right now, class-wise?”
I frown, glancing at the time on my phone.
“Actually, I’m free for the next hour.”
“Perfect. C’mon, I need your help.”
“Coach, I’m not joining the team.”
He grins. “Relax. I just need your help with something. I’m off my recruiting pitch, I promise. You got ten minutes?”
I mull it over before I shrug. “Fuck it, sure. What do you need?”
He nods with his head, and I follow him into the locker rooms, and then through them out to the pool area.
“You don’t need me, Coach. You’ve already got someone dominating your meets.”
I’m talking about Waverly Owens, Vice Principle Owens’s daughter, who happens to be a crazy good competitive swimmer. I mean shit, I think she’s maybe one of the biggest reasons the school splurged on hiring a dude like Coach Kirby, who almost went to the Olympics.