Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Zoey’s taken aback and takes a second to gather her thoughts. “I’ve been assigned to show you around,” she tells me.
Like fuck that’s going to happen.
“Don’t waste your time,” I tell her. “I’m good.”
“You’re good?” she scoffs, her eyes blazing with the anger I knew was coming. “Three years of radio silence and all I get from you is I’m good?”
“What the hell were you expecting?” I spit, stepping even closer and watching the way she has to crane her neck to meet my eye, probably able to smell the lingering stench of cigarettes on my clothes. “You and me—we’re nothing. Not anymore. I don’t need you, Zoey. I haven’t needed you for three years, and I sure as fuck don’t need you now. So, let’s get this straight because I don’t want you trying to recreate something that will never be. I’m only here to play football, and that’s it. I’m not here for you. At this school, we don’t know each other. Whatever the fuck we used to be, doesn’t exist anymore. You see me in the hallways, you look the other way. You see me outside, you go somewhere else. I’m not some fucking project for you to save. Got it?”
A breath escapes her lips, and I watch the undeniable pain shooting through her eyes, dulling that bright green I used to love. “Wow, Noah. Haven’t you become a giant piece of shit?” she says, taking a step back and grabbing her backpack off the ground. Not meeting my eye, she slings it over her shoulder, more than ready to race out of here. But I’m not surprised, she’s always run at the first sign of conflict. What does surprise me is how casually she called me a piece of shit. The Zoey I knew would never talk that way, and I’m not going to lie, her disgust and judgment stings.
Meeting my stare again, she hesitates, trying to figure out if she’s going to tuck her tail between her legs and storm away or say whatever the fuck she feels she needs to say. “For what it’s worth,” she grits out, determination flashing in her hurt stare. “I was only doing this for your mom because she came to me yesterday, begging me to help you out because she’s so scared that she’s losing you. But you know what? She was right to be scared. You’re long gone, Noah. The kid I used to know . . . I can’t even see him in there.”
Zoey steps around me and storms to the door, and I have to resist reaching out to touch her, hating that part of me that still desperately craves everything that she is. Reaching for the door, she yanks it open but turns back at the last second, her long chestnut hair whipping over her shoulder. “You should have stayed away,” she tells me, her voice filled with the type of venom that somehow darkens my already blackened soul. “I was better off without you.”
And with that, she flies out the door, leaving a gaping hole right where my heart used to be.
I almost fall to my knees, and if it weren’t for the office lady staring at me like I’m a snake making his way into the chicken coop, maybe I would have. I stride up to her, and she keeps her narrowed stare on me, making it clear that we’re going to have issues. “Noah Ryan,” I tell her. “First day.”
“Oh, I know who you are, Noah Ryan,” she says, spitting my name like it’s poison. “And I am more than aware of just how much you need this school. This is your last shot, and if you think you can come into my office with that big ole chip on your shoulder and treat the students of East View High the way you just treated Miss James, you have another thing coming.”
I clench my jaw as she pushes a stack of papers toward me, not daring to take her furious glare off me. “Hear me, boy. I see students like you come and go every day, so don’t get me wrong, your football career means nothing to me. What matters is the welfare of the students in this school, and if you’re going to be a threat to that then you can walk straight back out that door and exchange this welcome pack for a pair of cuffs. Is that understood?”
“Yeah, got it,” I say, scooping the papers off the desk and turning away, not bothered to hear any more of her lecture. Besides, it doesn’t matter anyway. Zoey received my message loud and clear. She won’t be an issue for me, which in turn means that I won’t be an issue for that old bat.
Barging back out into the hallway, I’m pleased to find no hint of Zoey James or anyone else for that matter. It’s still early, and if I’m quick, I’ll have just enough time to make a pitstop to Coach Martin before having to get my ass back here for homeroom.