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)
We stare at her.
“Ugh. Just vote for me, okay?” She lowers her voice. “Why haven’t you responded to my text message yet?”
“My phone’s in my locker,” I say. “I didn’t know you sent me anything.”
“Well, I did. So, hurry up and read it. It’s important.”
“Why can’t you tell me what it is now?”
“Because it’s personal, Scarlett.” She clasps my hand and looks into my eyes. “It’s life or death level important, and I desperately need your help.”
From her touch, I can feel her pulse racing, and for a split second, it feels like we're seven-year-old girls again, partners in crime, willing to do whatever for each other without question.
Back when we were friends…
She lets go and clears her throat. “Since you’re editor-in-chief of the senior yearbook, I expect you to name me as Most Likely to be a Supermodel. It’s only fair since that’s what everyone keeps telling me.”
“Tully, I’ve told you before that’s not a real category.”
“Well, make it one.” She scoffs. “If you want people to pay for a yearbook, you need to make sure people like me are featured as much as possible. No one cares about anything else.”
Welp. At least she ruined the sister moment quicker than usual this time.
“Okay, onto the next set of voters.” She serves me and Kevin a princess wave before walking away. Her minions follow her lead to bribe more peasants.
“Okay, remind me.” Kevin sighs. “How many days do we have left until graduation?”
“Two hundred and sixty seven days and three hundred eighty four thousand, four hundred and eighty minutes,” I say. “Do you want to know the seconds?”
After fifth period, I pull my cell phone from my locker and check the text messages.
Tully
Okay sooooo when Mom & Dad go to Aunt Jane’s wedding, I’m throwing a house party. Since you’re good at decor and shit, I’ll need you to help set up so it can be amazing.
Oh, and we should consider this as our early birthday party sooo I guess you can invite your friends too! (Just a few though…)
I roll my eyes.
I should’ve known it wasn’t really life or death.
The locker on my left suddenly slams shut and a familiar, intoxicating woodsy pine scent I love surrounds me. It’s the scent that clings to all my sheets, lingers for weeks, and makes me wish it never had to leave.
Easton…
I avoid looking at him and rummage in my locker, pretending to search for something.
I can feel him staring, then glaring at me, waiting for me to acknowledge his presence, but I don’t.
“Hello, Scarlett,” he says, his voice low.
I say nothing. I flip through a chemistry book. Then, I pick up a pen and click it a few times.
“I know you hear me talking to you…”
I hum a Chopin refrain and rotate the violin case behind the clarinet.
My heart is beating so loudly that I’m convinced he can hear it.
“Scarlett…” He slips an arm around my waist and spins me around.
As he releases me, I feel the urge to press my hands against his chest, to kiss his lips, and tell him how much I missed him last night, but I don’t.
I can’t…
“Is there something I can help you with this afternoon, Easton Rush?”
“I believe so,” he says. “I have a problem.”
“You only have one?”
“I wanted to see a certain someone last night.” He paused. “But her window was locked.”
“Was it?”
“Yes.” He narrows his eyes. “It was.”
“I guess I must’ve forgotten to leave it open.”
“You also ignored all ten of my calls.”
“You should’ve gotten the hint after the fifth one.”
“Why do you have to do this shit to me every week?” He gazes at my lips. “Does arguing with me every other day turn you on?”
“Even if it did—and it doesn’t—it’s not like there’s anything you could do about it.”
He raises his eyebrow. “I’m coming over around seven tonight. I need you to leave the window open.”
“I might not be there.” I cross my arms. “I have a date.”
“With who?”
“A guy I can actually go out in public with,” I say. “He’s also in college, so he’s far more mature. He knows all about classical music and shit.”
“So do I, Scarlett.”
“Not like he does. He’s on another level than you.”
“He plays piano?”
“He does. Far better than you’ll ever be able to.”
A slow smirk crosses his lips as if he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. He moves his head closer, nearly pressing it against my forehead, making my breath catch.
“Why do you keep wasting your time going out with these guys who aren’t me?” He loops a finger under my necklace, lifting the petal-shaped charm he gave me last month. “It’s not like you’re sleeping with them.”
“I’m not sleeping with you either.”
“Until you come to your senses.”
“Are you planning on asking my sister to join us, then?”
“I haven’t fucked your sister.” He looks offended. “You know better than that.”