Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“If she’s not. I’ll get my own place. I don’t give a shit. You’re not staying in this house like some trapped fucking princess locked in a tower. And if you do, I’m going to jail...”
“I…” Her eyes closed, and a moment of self-doubt crept in. Maybe she didn’t feel the same way I did.
“It’s not as simple as that, and you know it,” she said.
“No, I don’t know it.” I tossed more clothes in. “Because I wouldn’t let someone control me like this.” Another shirt landed in the suitcase.
“You have your own money, Bellamy. I’m just...some spoiled brat.”
She wasn’t. She was so much more than that. “Then stop being a spoiled brat, Drew.”
“How?” She stared at me like I’d lost my mind, her gaze shifting from me to the suitcase I kept filling. “By moving in with you? You have to know how crazy that sounds.”
“Yeah? And you’re fucking crazy, so…” I zipped the suitcase and glared at her.
I sounded crazy, and I knew it, but that’s what Drew did to me. Made me fucking lunatic crazy. “And you’ve made me a fucking psycho,” I said.
A small smile touched her lips. “Believe me when I say, I’d love nothing more than to walk out of here and flip my dad off on the way out the door. But I have nothing to offer you, Bellamy.”
“Oh, you’ve got plenty to offer me, baby girl…” I stepped toward her, grabbing her waist. “I’d have you at my beck and call.” I smirked.
“You’re a dick.”
Everything about why I was doing this was selfish. Every damn thing. Because I wanted as much of her as I could have before she left. I wanted every damn second I could steal with her. So I pushed where I knew she’d give.
“Where’s the rebel at? The girl who had me arrested and let Hendrix set her car on fire just to try and get expelled?” I yanked her close, brushing my lips to hers. “You aren’t a spoiled brat, baby girl, you’re a fucking nightmare. And no one locks the evil queen in the tower…”
“This is why my dad doesn’t like you. You make me want to do insane things. You make me want to set fire to everything shiny and watch it burn.”
“Nah. I just give you the match.”
“You’re absolutely insane...” Her gaze lingered on mine for a moment before she let out a breath. “Fuck it.” She kissed me before resting her forehead against mine. “Move in with my criminal boyfriend? Why not?”
“That’s the spirit, baby girl.”
“But we have to plan this out...”
And the next morning, I sat at the Jet Pep across from the entrance to Barrington Heights, waiting until her dad’s Maserati zoomed past to go to her house and grab her shit.
43
Drew
I pulled away from the bank, cutting through the rush hour traffic in the center of Barrington. Instead of turning towards Barrington prep, I headed into Dayton. To Bellamy.
This was insanity.
I’d only known Bellamy for a few weeks, and half of that time, we’d hated each other.
He’d seen me at my worst, and if anything, my worst was what he liked best. In a world where I’d always been sub-par, he made me feel like something special.
I wanted whatever this crazy, burning addiction I had for him was. I craved the way he made me feel so alive, like all my imperfections were perfect. I’d jump into the unknown for him, but also for me. Screw the future, and the what-ifs and maybes.
This might have been a mistake, but not one I would regret.
When I pulled up to Bellamy’s, his car was in the drive and the trunk was open. He stepped outside of his house and went straight to his car to haul another of my suitcases out.
I was really doing this. No going back.
I’d emptied my account before my dad could figure out what I was moving in with Bellamy and his family, because I knew the second he figured it out, he’d cut me off. I was going to re-enroll in Dayton to finish school.
Holy shit. I was moving in with him...
Would his mom think I was dragging her son down? Should I have spoken to her myself and asked to stay with her? The protocol for shacking up at eighteen was a little hazy. I would pay her though...I thumbed through the cash in the envelope, about six thousand dollars. The price of a handbag normally. Now it was the price of freedom--for a little while at least.
I stuffed the envelope inside my purse and got out of the car.
Bellamy stood at the back of his Honda, an unreadable expression on his face as he stared at the bumper. “You cannot leave that thing in my drive.”
I glanced at the Porsche, then back to him. “Well, where do you want me to put it?”