Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
As hard as it was for me to leave home when I was drafted by the Demons, I’m grateful I landed by the sea. I walk along the beach every time I need to think. It helps me chill. Helps me organize my thoughts. And tonight, my thoughts are on my other family, the one I left behind when I left Jackson Harbor.
It’s been two years since I’ve seen any of them. I thought I’d visit, but then Mom moved out here to be closer to me, and . . . well, my good intentions weren’t enough to get me back home.
Carter and I haven’t exchanged so much as a text in months. I’ll get a random message from Shay from time to time, but nothing like those damn “Should I sleep with him?” texts she sent me in the middle of the night two years ago. She’s still with Steve, so I guess she’s probably answered that question by now.
If I’m honest with myself, that’s a big part of what keeps me from flying back to Michigan. Every time I think about booking a ticket, I imagine seeing her with him. I know how unfair and unreasonable my jealousy is. She isn’t mine. Never has been. I tell myself it’s easier to stay away, but I think staying away from Shayleigh might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
And this month she’s in Paris for the first time. With her boyfriend, through some program with their college.
I glance at the time on my phone.
She’s nine hours ahead of me, so it’s dinnertime there. Is her boyfriend romancing her in front of the Eiffel Tower? Is he telling her how gorgeous she is as they walk the halls of the Louvre? Does she believe him, or does she still doubt her beauty?
Fuck it.
I unlock my phone and pull up my text app.
Me: How’s Paris?
Shay: Paris is great. Boys are stupid.
If there was any doubt in my mind that I’m a selfish asshole, the big-ass smile those words bring to my face would have confirmed it.
Me: All boys, or one in particular?
Shay: Who breaks up with a girl IN PARIS?
My breath rushes out of me. Fucking Steve. I thought he was supposed to be the smart kid. I should’ve trusted my instincts.
Me: A very, very stupid boy. Are you okay?
Shay: I’m fine. I guess I should’ve seen it coming. We get a free day tomorrow and I had it all worked out. We were going to spend it together, but now he tells me we’re through and he’s going to spend it with Heather. Heather, my roommate. Heather, who was supposedly my FRIEND.
Boys are the worst. And that’s where she went wrong—dating a boy.
Shay: Why couldn’t he have done this before we left? Now I’m on this trip and trying to act like I’m fine. I’ll never forgive him if he ruins Paris for me.
Me: What did you plan for tomorrow?
Shay: Eiffel Tower, of course. BECAUSE ROMANTIC.
Me: Do it anyway.
Shay: I know. I know.
Shay: It’s dumb, but I’ve imagined my first top-of-the-Eiffel-Tower kiss since I was ten.
I grin, and I can’t help but be glad he’s an idiot. This Steve guy has gotten so many of her firsts. He doesn’t deserve that one too.
Apparently I don’t reply fast enough, because her next text comes through before I can.
Shay: Okay. It IS dumb, but I can’t help it.
Me: He’s doesn’t deserve you or that kiss.
Shay: Or maybe I’m a bore who “studies too much and isn’t fun anymore.”
I sincerely hope Heather has crabs and shares them with Steve. It’s the least he deserves.
Me: Nah. I’m right on this one.
Shay: It’s time for our nighttime bus tour, so I have to put my phone away. Please don’t tell my family what happened. I don’t want them to worry about me.
Me: You can always trust me with your secrets.
Shay
I scowl at my phone. Did I think Easton was going to text me all weekend just because I’m heartsick?
He could’ve at least responded to my last message. I sent it this morning because I needed to complain to someone that Heather and Steve sucked face the whole bus tour and then she snuck him into our room after she thought I was asleep. Assholes.
Easton didn’t reply. There’s a time difference to account for, but still. It’s almost six p.m. here, so that means it’s almost nine in the morning in LA.
Easton is right about one thing, though. I should spend my evening doing everything I planned, and while our whole group will go to the Eiffel Tower together next week, I really wanted to go alone first, when I wouldn’t have professors droning on about the architectural wonder of it. I want to enjoy it on a visceral level the first time I go, and I shouldn’t miss out just because Steve decided he’d rather be with Heather.