Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
This has to be it, but what other code would he use? He’s not the type for coming up with random numbers and calling it a day. He’ll forget them. No, he’s always used something meaningful, something he’ll remember. He always used . . . crap. He always used my birthday, the same code I use now.
Curiosity pulls at my chest, and as I grab the combination lock again, I look down at it as though it might bite me. My heart races, and I don’t know why, but I push the building anxiety away before finally entering my birthday—0228.
The combination lock clicks open, and my jaw drops as I stare at the open lock. There’s no way that actually just happened. I know he used to use my birthday when we were kids. It was his code for everything, just as mine used to be his, but I assumed he would have changed that years ago. The fact that he’s still using it . . . I don’t know how to feel about that.
Is there a part of him still hanging on to me, or was he just too lazy to figure out another number combination to use? Probably option number two.
Not wanting to hang around and get caught in here, I hastily pull the locker open, and the second I do, I’m hit in the face with Noah’s cologne, and it’s everything. My eyes roll and my knees go weak, but I push it aside, searching through his things until I hear the familiar jingle of car keys.
I pull them out of the locker, but they feel heavier than I was expecting, and I glance down, sucking in a breath as I find my favorite Z keyring.
“That rat bastard,” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head and realizing that he must have stolen it.
My keyring went missing last year, way after Noah had stopped talking to me, and I know for a fact that it was put away safely in my jewelry box. And then one day—poof—it was gone. I accused Hazel of stealing it, and she screamed at me, telling me she was innocent, but I wouldn’t hear it. I owe her an apology. How the hell was I supposed to know that Noah freaking Ryan snuck into my room and stole it? As far as I was aware, he hadn’t set foot in my home since before Linc’s funeral. Hell, I wonder what else he’s stolen over the years.
That assface has got another thing coming.
Not having the time to get all worked up about it now, I shove the keys into my pocket and scram.
After sneaking out of the locker room, I backtrack to the main part of the school, just so I can walk straight out the normal doors and not cause any suspicion. Who am I kidding? It’s already suspicious that I’m walking out of here so much later than the rest of the students, but I could come up with a million excuses as to why I’m loitering on school property that would be more believable than the truth.
Just as I did every day last week, I walk to the student parking lot, keeping my gaze locked heavily on the ground in front of me, refusing to glance up at the football field, not wanting to see him. He’s bad for my health, and until I can get the image of him falling to his knees at the idea of me needing protection from him out of my head, I need to play it smart.
Making my way down to my Range Rover, I feel his laser-sharp stare on the side of my face, but I do what I can to ignore it as I put on a show of unlocking my car and opening the door. My hands shake. I’m going to have to time this just right. Noah is fast, and if I fumble even a second, I’ll be screwed. When I pulled up this morning, I was frustrated to find the only available spot right next to Noah’s Camaro, but now, having it so close is nothing but a gift from the Hemsworth gods.
I feel myself growing sweaty, and I know it has absolutely nothing to do with the blistering Arizona sun and everything to do with the fact that I’m about to steal Noah Ryan’s car.
Yep. I really have lost my mind.
Climbing into my Range Rover, I keep the door open as I spare a glance toward the football field, my face concealed by the tinted windows. Noah’s gaze lingers on me a moment, but when he’s scolded by Coach Martin, his stare falls away, and I watch as he jogs back down the field, catching the ball before immediately tossing it away.
Wanting to use every second of his distraction to my advantage, I quickly grab a few things from my car before scrambling out of it, keeping my body concealed by the Range Rover.