Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
She smiled down at her bare feet. “Doesn’t mean I like an asshole.”
“Doesn’t mean I like a spoiled princess, but…” I walked closer. “At the risk of you biting me or kicking me in the balls, I’m really sorry about your great-grandma. She was special.”
She sniffled as her hair fell like a curtain across her face, and all I saw was the upper lip getting bitten. What the hell was wrong with me? “Thanks, but I think it’s better if we stay enemies.”
I snorted. “You’ve never dealt with an enemy or a true battle a day in your life.”
Her head snapped up, Exorcist-style. Later in life, I would say it twisted all the way around until she stared back at me and stole my soul. “What? What was that?”
I liked the fierceness in her eyes, so I took the bait. Maybe that’s what love and hate, friendship and being enemies, was all about. “I said”—I gripped her by the chin—“that you’ve never seen a battle a day in your life.”
She smacked my hand away and gave me a shove. “Then I guess you’re in for a very long summer of war with the girl next door. You see, that girl is sweet. This one? She’s a warrior. And I never back down from a fight. Have a good night.”
She grabbed her shoes and stomped off like I didn’t understand her. I walked back across the yard with a smile on my face, my first real, genuine smile in a while. She wanted to play?
I was always a fan of games, and I was suddenly an even bigger fan of hers than I was before—not that I hadn’t been. She’d rejected me in middle school when I asked to sit by her on the bleachers and offered her my hot Takis while she watched Stranger Things on her phone.
Epic fail. She never even heard me; just handed me the bag and kept watching. Saddest Taki moment ever.
After that, it was this weird give-and-take, laugh-and-kind-of-cry sort of relationship. Then, when we got into high school, I grew into my body. She didn’t grow into hers. In fact, she got made fun of, and I tried to defend her, but not hard enough. I became a dick and blamed my friends. But I was different now.
Hazel?
She was always just Hazel. The same bright, intelligent, beautiful Hazel. I just wished she saw herself the way everyone else did. Guys were pissed because her dad threatened them in a joking way, and then they were pissed because I was the only one who could talk to her, despite her fascination with Jane Austen.
If she only knew… Wow. I couldn’t believe I’d thought that as I returned to my house. Damn social media. She’d been so many guys’ Roman Empire—mine included.
But if she wanted a war…
The girl would get a war.
“Yo, Hazel,” I called over my shoulder. “Get ready for day one.”
She shook her head and kept walking.
She was ill-prepared.
Good.
When I got back into the house, Mom stuttered awake. “Was that Hazel? Are things good now?”
I grinned as I walked into the living room. “Most excitement I’ve had in a while. Might get her a graduation present.”
“Aw, that’s”—she yawned—“so sweet.” She tried to get up but stumbled back into the chair. “Sorry, just tired. The meds hit a bit harder today.”
With tears in my eyes, I helped her up and wrapped the quilt around her frail shoulders. “We all have those, just rest.”
For now, my mind was on my mom. At least, until the next morning, when a present nearly hit me on the way to grabbing the newspaper from the front porch.
I looked down.
It said TNT on it.
Very funny.
I shook it like a dumbass.
And it exploded with pink glitter. I found a tiny note inside. Don’t mess with women who wear heels on grass. It takes savage superpowers to walk in a straight line without sinking into the dirt. You’ve been warned. Also, I always thought men with dirt on their faces needed a bit of pink…maybe go check your motorcycle.
I flicked the card onto the ground, then picked up some of the pink glitter from my shirt and blew it toward her house. “You have no idea what’s coming, little girl.”
Chapter Four
“Women are difficult. Their lipstick is their armor, just like their shoes are weapons, and their clothes are their shield.”—August Wellington
Hazel
I smiled myself to sleep that night after partying way too long and gifting August pink glitter. In fact, it might have been the best sleep I’d had my entire life.
I stretched my arms over my head and checked my phone.
Only six a.m.?
I still had at least two hours to sleep this off, relax, and just—
The sound of a lawnmower had me jolting up so hard my skull pounded, the pain radiating from the back of my neck to my temples.