Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105815 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105815 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
He asked for advice…
The pledge comes back with Anastasia’s purse and my letterman jacket from my room (I wondered where that was and took a stab). He hands them to her, and she slips her arms inside and tugs it around her, her nose dipping to the collar as she inhales the smell.
My chest tightens as she turns, and I see the 3 on the back under my last name. I murmur under my breath.
She adjusts her crossbody-style purse over it. “What did you say?”
I blink. “Three. It’s the magic number.”
She gives me a half-smile. “Right.”
“Ready?”
She nods, hiding her face. “Yeah. Let’s get out of this place.”
I throw an arm around her, being casual, yet aware of the press of her against me, that sweet scent of hers that stirs the air.
I guide her out the door, my hand at the small of her back. It’s a sizzle to my skin, but I shove it down. A row of pledges are lined up (on my orders), blocking the view from the dance floor. I give them a nod as we dash for the exit to the right and step out into the cold air.
I nod my head at the parking lot to the side of the house. “My truck’s over here.”
She looks around the property, a furrow on her brow. “I’m leaving when he’s the one who should be embarrassed for being such a dick,” she mutters. “But it’s his house, and I’m embarrassed. Ugh.”
Several partiers are stand in the front yard, dancing, laughing, drinking, but no one seems to notice us.
I pop the lock on my truck, and she crawls in the passenger side. I slide in and give her a long look, then glance back to the road as I crank the vehicle.
Lost. She looks lost.
“Audrey will be disappointed when she can’t find you,” she says quietly as I drive down the street and make the turn that takes us off Greek Row.
“I haven’t been with her in months…” My words taper off. I don’t want to talk about that. Would she want to know that when I fucked, she was the one in my head? Probably not. The night she opened the door and saw me, shame washed over me, deep and thick, which was crazy because I had every right to fuck whoever I wanted. She had Donovan! But she…
Her eyes. Her face.
I can’t be with anyone like that again.
She’s gotten her phone out and gasps.
“What?”
I glance over at her, and she shows me a post on IG, a picture of Donovan and Harper on a couch in the den of the house, snuggled up. “Wow. That didn’t take long. Mellany posted it. True love always wins over skanks is the caption.” Her hands tremble. “She also posted the audio of the breakup, it seems. I can’t…”—her head shakes—
“…listen to it. Not yet.”
A long exhalation leaves my chest. I figured this was coming. That conversation behind the curtain went on way too long for people not to jump on it.
She squeezes her hands into fists. “I lost your toga piece. Do you have something I can clean my face with? Tissues or a napkin—” She fumbles with the glove box, opens it, and stops.
She pulls out the copy of The Outsiders, her lips parting. “River? You kept this?” Her eyes widen as she looks at me.
I shift around, tensing. “Yeah.”
She lets out a long breath. “It’s my copy from when I was thirteen, a childhood treasure. I met the author, my parents arranged it, and I got to talk to her about the characters. Normally, I wouldn’t have loaned it out, but that day…wow, I wasn’t myself…” Her lips tremble. “I assumed you set fire to it and did a victory dance around it. Did you read it?”
Tension rolls over me at the memory of that day in the kitchen with her.
Her in that bathing suit. My loss of control.
Did I read it?
A harsh laugh comes from me and I clench the steering wheel. “Yeah. It took me”—a month of reading every night—“a while, but yeah. Every single word…” is etched on my soul. “‘Stay gold, Ponyboy.’ That’s what Johnny told Ponyboy. He begged him to fight against the odds, to always hold his breath right before the sunrise and to watch every sunset,” I say. “My favorite quote is, ‘You still have a lot of time to make yourself be what you want.’”
Wonder colors her voice as she clutches the book to her heart. “You read it. My God. You get it, you get it. Out of all this…debacle tonight…to discover this? You have no idea what it means to me. Yeah, I know it’s a young adult novel, but I never dreamed you’d really read it and…and I-I feel better for some reason, knowing you know a quote…thank you.” A tear slips down her face, and the thing is, she isn’t making a sound, and I don’t think she realizes she’s crying. I’m not sure why she’s thanking me, but maybe it’s for getting her out of there, then the book.