Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 54383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Leaning against his shoulder, Tully holds up her cell phone.
“So, we just got back from Gayle’s Diner and I bought a ton of stuff that I’m making him try tonight,” she says. “Since everyone swears by the waffle bites and custom creams, I can’t wait to see what he thinks!”
She runs a hand through his ink-black hair before turning off the video. Then she looks at him. Do you want to eat chocolate or vanilla first?”
“Chocolate.”
“Vanilla it is, then.”
He smiles and picks up a tiny silver tin, while Tully places a spoonful of cream onto his tongue.
I watch as she films him trying flavor after flavor, forcing my blood to boil with every dollop.
Every time she playfully runs her fingers through his hair, I think about my fingers touching him there better.
Each time he laughs, I can hear the strain and the fakeness. Not the authentic full-throated one he has with me.
And in the rare moments that he places his fingers under her chin to adjust the angle of the camera, I think about where those fingers have tried to go with me, where they’ve trailed against my skin and made me lose all consciousness.
I hate this feeling, and I know that I should stop watching and walk away, but I can’t.
I hate dating other guys, searching for someone who can make me feel even a tenth of what Easton does.
Stepping back, I return to my room and lock the window. I draw the blinds shut and close the curtains. Then I curl into a ball on my bed, put in my earbuds, and ignore the wetness that stains my pillowcase.
I’m not sure how long I lay there, but later I hear a familiar sound outside my window.
Tap! Tap! Tappp!
It’s him, but I don’t move.
Tap! Tap! Tap!
I remain still.
I feel my phone vibrating next to my head, and then he taps again, but I can’t face looking at him tonight.
I just can’t.
In addition to accepting that the college boys aren’t worth my time, I need to accept that none of them will ever be able to wean my heart away from the boy who’s owned it for over a year.
2
ME
Dear Heather Adair,
I once saw you shaving your head in the locker room before school, but I didn’t think anything of it…Until I caught you doing it again. I also discovered that the “clinic in Memphis” you incessantly mentioned (whenever you missed weeks of class) doesn’t exist. You didn’t need to fake cancer to make friends. Everyone liked you already.
Wish I Would’ve Told You,
—Scarlett
“Please tell me that there are some mornings when you wake up and say, ‘There’s no way I’m related to my identical twin sister.’” My best friend Kevin plops down next to me in the cafeteria.
“I say that every morning. Why do you ask?”
“Because apparently, she’s kicking off her homecoming campaign today and it’s far worse than what she did last year.”
“Nothing is worse than last year, Kevin.” I shake my head at the thought. “Nothing.”
“Want to bet me one of your cherry sour belts?”
I hold up the packet of my favorite candy, wondering if a bet is worth that much.
Last year, my sister enlisted the help of every cheerleader, basketball player, and football player to fill our school’s hallways with pink and white “Tully Crane for Queen” balloons.
Her post about it went viral within an hour.
She won the crown unanimously.
“She’s going with a Cinderella theme this time,” Kevin snatches the candy away from me. “She’s also bribing people for votes.”
“She thinks she’s too good to beg,” I say. “There’s no way.”
“Speak of the devil.” He smiles. “See for yourself.”
I look over my shoulder as Tully steps into the cafeteria, dressed in a sparkling pink ball gown that exposes the top of her C-cup breasts. Two friends are at her side, dressed like fairy godmothers and waving glitter wands.
She’s always been a master at commanding attention, and this moment is no exception. Everyone is staring at her like she’s some type of celebrity, and she’s loving every second of it.
“Are you voting for her?” I ask.
“No, I’m voting for Chelsea Hilton.”
“The girl who outed you in middle school?”
“She did me a favor.” He shrugs. “What about you?”
“I never vote. I’m sure she’ll win regardless.”
“Oh, me too. I just have to do my part in making sure it won’t be unanimous this time.”
I laugh as Tully makes her way to our table.
“Good afternoon, Sir Kevin and Lady Scarlett!” She pulls a handful of glitter from her purse and tosses it over us. “The homecoming season is officially upon us.”
Her godmother friends hold out two bright pink lollipops that feature her face, but neither I nor Kevin makes a move to grab them.
“Make your senior year un-dull by voting for your girl, Tulles!” She smiles. “A vote for me would not only be tasty, but it also won’t be waste-y!”