Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Don’t they ever get sick of that stupid game and hanging out together in the stupid middle of the street?
I drive past them with a fake smile and a wave.
Henley’s not there.
Where is he? . . . Is he okay?
I’m currently suffering from multiple personality disorder. I flick between anger and worry for him. Raging one minute, crying the next.
Angry because he hurt me, but worried because I know that’s not who he is.
Maybe I’m just a gullible idiot who got played by a player.
As I pull up to my house, I see that my lawn has been mowed. Huh? I pull the car into the driveway and get out to hear the lawn mower going in my backyard.
Who mowed my lawn?
I glance back out to the boys in the middle, and Blake dips his head and waves. “Hi, Juliet.”
“Hi.”
Ugh . . . stop acting nice, you gangbanger. Chloe’s way too good for you.
I walk through my side gate to see Henley pushing the lawn mower at double speed over my lawn. He’s walking so fast and pushes it straight over a garden bed and shreds the plants.
“What are you doing?” I cry.
He keeps mowing at double speed, his head down, his skin glistening with perspiration.
“Henley,” I call.
He doesn’t look up and mows over another plant.
That’s it.
I storm over to him. “Stop!” I cry.
He looks up, and his step falters.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yell.
“Mowing your lawn. What does it fucking look like? It’s a disgrace,” he growls.
I put my hands onto my hips, infuriated. “You’re running over my plants.”
“Weeds,” he yells over the lawnmower.
“Go home,” I yell.
“What?” He pretends to be unable to hear me.
In a senseless rage, I look around at the carnage of my garden and the three plants he has chopped to pieces.
“Go home!” I point toward his house. “Do not mow my fucking lawn ever again.”
I have never, ever met a more infuriating person. I’m so close to punching him in the face right now that it isn’t even funny.
I push him away from the lawn mower, and he stumbles back, and I turn it off.
“Go home,” I yell.
“What do you expect me to do? Your grass is ruining the entire streetscape. We are all sick of it,” he spits through gritted teeth.
Something inside my brain snaps, and I want to lash out and hurt him. “You’re a fucking controlling neat freak, and I will not stand for it.”
His eyes bulge from their sockets. “What did you say?” he sneers.
“You heard me. Go the fuck home.” I turn and march back to my house, and I realize my back door is locked. Damn it, my keys are still in my car around the front.
Ugh!
I storm around the front with him hot on my heels. “You did not just say that to me,” he yells. “I am not a neat freak.”
“Yes, I did, and yes, you are.” I open my car and grab my keys. “Go away, Henley. You are a fucking nightmare.” I slam the car door shut and march to the front door.
“Don’t you fucking dare call me names.” He follows me inside.
“I’ll call you whatever I want.”
He slams the door shut behind him. “Listen to me. You keep your fucking lawn in order or move the fuck out,” he fumes. “I will not live next to a derelict house.”
“What?” I explode. “My grass wasn’t even long.”
“Yes, it was.” His eyes are bulging, and the veins are sticking out of his forehead. “You owe me a thank-you.”
“For what?” I explode. “For chopping up my fucking plants?”
“They were weeds.”
“You’re a fucking weed. Go home!”
“Suits me fine.” He turns toward the door. “You’re an ungrateful wench.”
“Henley,” I call.
He turns back to face me. “You’re a self-centered fucking asshole, do you know that?”
He narrows his eyes and steps toward me. “Do not blame me for your delusional little love affair.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I explode. Adrenaline is surging through my body. My heart is hammering in my chest.
He screws up his face and in a whiny-little-girl voice says, “I love you, Henley.” He glares at me, contempt dripping from his every pore. “You had to go and ruin everything, didn’t you?”
I stare at him, shocked.
“Wow . . .”
His eyes hold mine, and he lifts his chin to the sky in defiance, as if goading me into a fight.
The stupid tears well in my eyes again. Stop it.
“At least one of us loves you,” I whisper. “Because you sure don’t.”
His jaw clenches.
“Is this . . .” I try to articulate my words. “Is this how you treat people who care about you, Henley?”
He glares at me.
“Yes.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “I won’t apologize for being myself.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Don’t be human? Don’t hold someone dear who means something to me?”
He twists his lips in anger.