Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Ever since I started dating Jasper, my social standing has skyrocketed.
At first, I was thrilled by the attention. When you’re used to being invisible, having popularity thrust upon you can go straight to your head. Suddenly, there were football games, parties, and hanging out with the elite of Hawthorne Prep. I’d stupidly thought they would become friendlier now that I was one of them.
But that’s the problem—I’m still not one of them.
I’m Jasper’s girlfriend from the wrong side of town whose mother works as a secretary in the school office. It didn’t take long for the rose-colored glasses to fall away.
The other exception to the rigid social structure at HP is Duke Carmichael. Like me, he’s a townie here on scholarship. He’s also one of Kingsley’s friends, which means he’s been grudgingly accepted by his peers.
Ironically, the blond, muscular boy doesn’t give a crap about popularity. He has the tendency to hang back from social situations with watchful, whiskey-colored eyes. Nothing gets past him.
Unlike Kingsley, he doesn’t play football. He’s a lacrosse guy. Duke stands well over six feet tall with broad shoulders and brawny arms. His hair is slightly longish and always disheveled in a way that looks intentional. Especially when he plows a big hand through it.
Except that’s not the case. I’ve known him since elementary school, and he’s never given a damn about those kinds of superficial things.
Even though I’ve never been interested in Duke, it would be impossible not to notice how the starched white material of his button-down strains across his chest and bulging biceps. Any moment, it’ll burst at the seams. His presence is as intimidating as the permanent scowl etched across his face.
Here’s the thing about Duke—he’s always been kind to me. I think it’s because neither of us belong at Hawthorne Prep and are just trying to navigate the shark-infested waters.
When Jasper waves for a second time, my shoulders droop, realizing that I have no choice but to join him. Not that I really thought otherwise. There would be questions if I chose to sit elsewhere. Even for a day. It seems less complicated to do what’s expected while deciding how to handle Friday night.
“Looks like you’re being summoned.”
I immediately recognize the deep voice at my ear.
How did he manage to sneak up on me when I’m always so attuned to his presence?
His warm breath feathers across the delicate flesh of my neck as he steps closer until the heat of his body can radiate against my backside.
“Don’t you ever get tired of it?”
I press my lips together, needing to keep the response buried deep inside. There’s no way for me to admit the truth.
That I hate it.
And I’m starting to hate Jasper, too.
Or maybe I already do.
“What’s the matter? You don’t have an answer?”
“No,” I whisper, barely moving my lips.
The urge to turn and meet his gaze pounds through me. Instead, my attention stays riveted to my boyfriend. His eyes are already narrowed, and from across the vast space that separates us, I see the storm clouds gathering on his face.
Jasper doesn’t need an excuse to go after Austin, but this will definitely do the trick. And the boy standing much too close knows it. It’s as if he’s deliberately poking at Jasper to rile him.
Why can’t these two just leave each other alone?
“I’m not afraid of him,” he says.
That much is apparent.
I’m beginning to suspect Austin has a death wish.
Instead of commenting, I force my feet into movement, walking toward the center table with my tray. If my hands are trembling from his nearness, I do my best to ignore it and hope he doesn’t notice.
What I know is that if I continue to stand here, looking as if we’re engaging in a conversation, it’ll only make the situation worse. Even though I don’t glance over my shoulder, I’m unnervingly aware of Austin’s towering presence shadowing my every movement. With each step, my heart picks up its tempo, thrashing painfully against my ribcage.
Once we reach the table, I settle on the bench next to Jasper. Austin drops down across from me with his lunch. A low growl emanates from within my boyfriend’s chest as his body tenses like a tightly coiled spring. Any moment, he’s going to leap across the space and a brawl will ensue. I can feel it brewing in the air.
Unwilling to chance eye contact, my gaze stays trained on my tray. It feels like the safest option.
“No one wants you here, Hawthorne,” Jasper snaps. “Why don’t you get lost? Better yet, go back to Chicago where you belong.”
A heavy silence follows that comment as the tension continues to ratchet up.
I still, watching Austin from beneath the thick fringe of my lashes.
“Oh, I think there’s at least one person who wants me here,” he says almost conversationally, as if they’re discussing the weather.