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)
Emily. Since he’s moved to Chicago with Emily. Maybe referring to the woman I mostly know as my favorite teacher at Winchester by her first name now is taking some getting used. What happened with Jamison’s fraternal twin and our recently departed art teacher is… well, it’s about as scandalous as it sounds. Thankfully for our family and the Scotts, not to mention Emily, the entire thing was so scandalous that the administration and the school board decided to cover it up and quietly clean up every single loose end concerning the whole affair.
So, to most people, Ms. Hayes is just another unfortunate case of a great teacher getting a better job offer somewhere else. And Ethan demanding to take his graduation tests now instead of at the end of the year, acing them, and moving on himself didn’t cause too many ripples. I mean he’d only been at Winchester since the start of senior year anyways.
Today, I’m not early. In fact, I’m right on time, and when I step into the main academic building, students are already milling around the hallways, getting ready for first period. I drop my stuff off at my locker and grab what I need for Professor Truman’s advanced statistics class, and I’m turning to head there, when I spot him.
Jamison.
Somehow, he’s beaten me here, even though I could have sworn I saw his vintage, old-school Land Rover at the house when I left. A flush creeps over me, thoughts from last night and my shameful behavior involving horrible thoughts of him slipping back into my mind as I blush furiously. I swallow thickly, tightening my jaw, and I’m about to yank my eyes away and just walk away, when the crowds of students thin, and I realize Jamison isn’t alone.
I shadow crosses my face, and a scowl begins to take root.
He’s grinning away, flashing that cocky, panty-melting smile of his as he leans against a row of lockers with one arm up. And he’s talking to Melissa Cruz.
No, not chatting. My scowl deepens when I see the way she giggles at something he says, slapping his chest playfully and then letting her hand linger there.
Not chatting. Flirting.
Suddenly, I’m seeing red. I hate that I am, and I hate the feelings and emotions that sweep over me. After all, Jamison Scott is a dick. A hot dick, maybe, but there is something seriously fucking wrong with me if I actually feel… what is this, jealousy? About Jamison? About Melissa fucking Cruz flirting with the asshole who lives down the hall from me?
I’m scowling so hard that I barely realize their conversation is over before I watch him walk away. I blink, and when my eyes shift, I realize Melissa is looking right at me, grinning away.
Shit.
Melissa is… how do I put this without sounding like a total bitch? Melissa is the kind of rich kid who comes to Winchester because her parents coughed up a little extra for a new science wing or something. Yes, I get that not everyone wants to be on four different student union subcommittees, the head of the debate team, first chair clarinet, varsity cheer squad, and class valedictorian. But still. Melissa is just one of those girls that I feel gives girls everywhere a terrible name. She’s catty, snobby, backstabbing, gossipy, and a royal bitch and a half. And who the hell gets fake tits when they’re seventeen?
Melissa Cruz, that’s who. The same Melissa Cruz I already have to do my best to drown out at cheer practice. The same Melissa Cruz who’s just been flirting her spray-tanned ass off with Jamison. The same Melissa Cruz who’s presently grinning away and making her way over to me.
“Ramona! Hey girl!”
Crap.
In a weird way, Melissa and I sort of travel in the same circles, mostly thanks to cheerleading. In the movie version of this, I’m the total nerd. I mean, debate team, valedictorian, student union, and in the orchestra? Yeah that should make me a class-A “uncool” kid. But, through cheer, and probably a bit through my family’s name and money, I’m somehow in the “in” crowd, too. At least, kind of, I guess. Enough so at least that I’ve got Melissa Cruz rushing towards me like she’s about to hug me saying “hey girl”.
“Hey, Melissa,” I smile dryly, hoping she moves on or gets distracted by something shiny soon.
She does hug me, by the way.
“Hey! So,” she pulls away, a mischievous look on her face as she wags her brows at me.
“So, Jamison Scott.”
I frown, but she just keeps going.
“And Ethan Scott, for that matter. Jesus, girl, how did you even live with two hotties like that? How do you live with even just that totally yumminess Jamison now?”
I make a face. “Gross?”
She laughs this plastic laugh, slapping my arm.
“Oh, please, you’re not related.”