Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Jules is lying, she has to be. Jackson isn’t dead…he can’t be. I hated them both equally when they left but finding out your ex-best friend might be dead. Yeah, that’s a kick to the fucking balls, and because of this little stunt, Jules has earned herself another session with me. I jog across campus to get to the biology building. I need to confront her right fucking now I don’t care if she’s in class, fuck I don't care if she’s in the middle of her fucking final.
No one will pay me any attention. I do what I want when I want. The professors turn a blind eye to all the bad shit I do, and believe me, I do a lot of bad shit. But what teacher in this school wants to lose out on all that extra cash my dad is pouring into this place.
By the time I get to the lab, the anger inside of me has built up and I’m damn near ready to explode. I rip the door open and stomp into the lab. I scan the classroom. I can feel eyes on me, but I only care about the big blue ones, connected to a heart-shaped face, framed with blonde curls in the last row.
“Why would you fucking lie about something like this?” I curl my lip and stomp through the classroom heading straight for her. Her eyes go impossibly wide and her expression holds nothing but confusion. Always lying...always playing innocent. One day it’s going to get her hurt… one fucking day.
“Telling people your brother is dead? What kind of sick fucking joke is that? Why the fuck would you lie about something like that?” Steam is billowing from my ears, and I want to smash my fist through something, destroy the room, break a desk or three. This woman brings out the worst in me, the absolute worst.
She gets up, gathering her things, ignoring me as if I didn’t just yell at her in front of an entire classroom full of people. Hushed whispers fill the room as silence blankets us.
“Answer me,” I shout, slamming my fist down on the first desk it connects with. Gasps fill the room and I see the professor out of the corner of my eye watching me. If she’s smart, she will keep her fucking mouth shut.
Jules starts walking toward me, and I have to remind myself to calm down. Breathe. Don’t react. Just breathe. She pushes past me and walks out of the building and I let her, afraid that if I grab her now, things might end badly. Following behind her, my feet slap against the pavement.
Who the fuck does she think she is?
She makes me insane, with need, with anger...I’m losing my damn mind because of her. It doesn’t take long for me to catch up to her and when I do, I can’t stop myself. I grab her by the shoulders, my fingers wrapped so tight around her slender arms I’m sure I’ll leave bruises.
I don’t want to hurt her, not physically at least, but she’s driving me mad. She closes her eyes as if she can’t fathom looking at me, but I need her to fucking look at me. I need to see the look in her eyes when she tells me the truth.
“Open your fucking eyes and tell me why you would lie? Why would you make up something like that? It’s fucking pathetic, even for someone like you.” I shake her small body, her silky blonde curls escape from behind her ears and her big eyes blink open.
Her gaze locks with mine and that’s when I see it. The pain, the anger, and loss all staring back at me. It’s heartbreaking the way she’s looking at me and I want to pull her into my arms, kiss her and tell her everything is going to be okay.
“I didn’t lie, Jackson is dead,” she says quietly, her voice breaking at the end.
I can feel a wave of grief and sadness building up, ready to crash over me, but I push it away. Not ready to face all of that yet, I let anger overcomes me instead and I release her with a shove. She stumbles backward and I almost reach out for her again to steady her, but instead, I shove my hands into my pockets to stop myself.
“And you didn't think that I deserved to know? Why wouldn't you tell me that my best friend is dead?”
She laughs, but it’s not laughter she’s emitting, it’s pain, thick and heavy. “Oh, when would you have liked me to do that, Remington? When you ordered me to stay out of your way and you acted like we didn’t know each other or maybe when you told me not to call you by the name I’ve called you since I was five? Oooo, maybe when you had your fingers deep inside me or when you all but told me to leave you the fuck alone or face the consequences? Please, tell me, which time should I have dropped that fucking bomb on you?”