Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
His mouth pulls up at one corner. White teeth appear, and I’d say he’s smiling if he didn’t look like a fucking shark ready to bite me.
“Funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be.”
“No. Comedy isn’t your thing, is it? More like blunt force trauma.”
My hands start to tremble, and my heartbeat skyrockets. I see the droplets of blood pooling on the floor. Like rubies, weren’t they? And that heavy bookend covered in blood and hair. I’m about to lose what just entered my stomach.
No. Do not give him the satisfaction. Anyway, even if I did throw up, I’d want to get it on him, but the table is between us, so it’d be a worthless vomit.
He leans in and lowers his voice until it’s a menacing growl. “In case no one let you in on it, I’ll tell you what everyone else in this room is thinking. You. Don’t. Belong. Here.” He enunciates every word like I’m stupid and don’t know what he’s saying.
“I belong anywhere I want to be. Corium houses the offspring of all criminals.” I wish I believed that, though at least it sounds like I do. I’m almost impressed with myself.
“You think so?” The look in his eyes makes my skin crawl. “Rules were made to be broken.”
I arch an eyebrow, quaking inside but blank-faced as I can manage. “Is that a threat?”
“If that’s how you want to see it.” He shrugs, smirking. “If you ask me, it’s more of a warning. An appetizer of what’s to come if you remain here.”
He grabs the apple off my tray and takes a bite out of it; the crunch of his teeth sinking into the skin reverberates through me. Asshole.
“That’s my apple, douchebag.”
“Was. Your apple. It’s mine now.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong, so I don’t know why everyone hates me so much,” I growl.
Ren huffs. “It’s obvious from a mile away, but I understand how your small brain may interpret it differently. You killed a man and got away with it, and now people are out for blood. You’re a liability and a loose end.”
“I was defending myself!”
He takes another bite of my apple, and I’m tempted to grab it from his hand and chuck it at his head. “That doesn’t matter. Someone died, and you must pay the price.”
I snarl my lip, ready to say something else, but there are already too many eyes on us, and now they’re snickering, pointing, and basically taking no pains to even pretend they’re leaving me alone.
“Just leave me alone!” I tell Ren, who takes a step back, a stupid smug look on his arrogant face. I force down every last bite of my sandwich because fuck them. Then I waste no time gathering my things, getting up, and leaving the cafeteria.
I guess this is what Lucas meant when he said he wouldn’t do anything to protect me. In the grand scheme of things, it hasn’t been that bad—threats and insults, they hurt but won’t kill me.
Knowing how much worse things can and probably will get has me deciding to skip my next class. I did my best, but I can’t take any more today.
I could go back to my room, but I’ll be spending the entire weekend there anyway. Instead, I head for the library. I’ll get lost there, deep in the stacks. I wonder what the odds are of hanging out there this weekend, come to think of it. The way Brittney and Aspen made it sound, nobody ever goes there. It might at least be a change of scenery.
The pressure in my chest eases when I step over the threshold. I know my mind is playing tricks on me, but the air feels sweeter and cleaner. Easier to breathe. The silence is delicious. The lack of anybody watching and judging me, waiting for me to screw up somehow. It’s freeing.
“I’ll grab the other stack from your desk.” Oh, shit. I forgot about her. How did I forget about her? I start backing up, suddenly regretting this decision, but it’s too late. Aspen has already seen me.
She stops short, frowning. “Hi.”
That’s about the nicest greeting I’ve received all week. “Hi.”
“I heard you were back.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve kind of been running from class to class and trying to stay away from as many people as possible.” Why am I pouring my heart out like this? Maybe because it seems like she wants to listen.
“Yeah. I know what that feels like.” Her gaze drifts toward the stack of books on Brittney’s desk, which I guess she was on her way to pick up when she ran into me. “Can you help me with those? I might not be able to carry them all by myself.”
That’s bullshit, of course. Part of me wonders if this is some kind of trick. But I’m the one who did that to her, aren’t I? Am I projecting by expecting her to double cross me the same way? Or did her husband put her up to it?