Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 120326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
I don’t think other people are as obsessed with little details like I am. For instance, I know that Lana has exactly twelve tiny freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. I know that her upper lip curves in the most perfect Cupid’s bow I’ve ever seen. I know that she picks at her nails when she’s nervous in groups. I know…shit, I know a lot about her.
And now I’ve finally spotted her.
She’s got her rucksack on her back and she’s walking down the hall in my direction, staring at the floor. I wish she didn’t always look so hunted. More importantly, I wish I didn’t get off on being the hunter.
I nudge Dean, who’s standing beside me.
“What?” he asks, chewing on a massive wad of gum.
“You see that redhead girl?”
“Yup.”
“Trip her when she walks by.”
“Eh, why?”
“Just shut up and do it.”
He looks at me like I’m being weird but gives in anyway. “Okay, then.”
Just like clockwork he trips her when she reaches us, and I step in to save the day. I catch her in my arms before she falls down, my hands holding tightly to her small frame. Her eyes flutter as she looks around, trying to figure out how she tripped. I let my hands travel up her arms to her shoulders and then to her bare neck.
“What – did you trip me, Robert?” she asks in a low voice, still glancing around. She’s so flustered I don’t think she even realises how intimately I’m touching her.
“No, it was one of those pricks,” I answer, gesturing to the guys standing near us. “Hey, how about a kiss for catching you?” I ask her, pushing my luck.
“Let go of me,” she requests calmly, her breathing slow and deep, like she’s trying to keep herself together.
“I thought we had an agreement. I keep the horny teenage boys away from you, and you let me touch you whenever I want.”
“There was no agreement. I never agreed to that,” she sputters, losing some of her calm. I revel in her returned fluster.
I suck in a breath, all slow and sexy, pushing my fingers into the soft skin of her neck. “Oh, yeah, that’s right, you didn’t. My mistake.”
I decide to let her go now. I’ve had my fix, and there’s no point in pushing her too far. That will only see her telling her mum, her mum telling my mum, and me getting grounded.
“My gran says people can only make you feel bad about yourself if you let them. And I’m not letting you, Robert,” she says, holding her chin up high.
Just when I think she can’t get any cuter, she goes and comes out with something like that. As soon as my hands fall from her neck, she scurries away, and I turn to watch her go.
All I can hope for is that one day I’ll be the kind of guy who can make her stay.
Part Three
Cruelty Is the Symptom of a Deeper Cause
Nine
This has been the longest week of my life, hands down. Robert’s been sulking ever since I deleted those pictures he took of me. Every time I walk into a room and he’s there, I just want to rush straight back out. He’s hardly said a word to me since our confrontation. My copy of The Oresteia that I threw at him is still lying on the grass in the back garden, a silent, unmoved relic of what happened.
For some reason I can’t bring myself to go out and pick it up. I don’t want to remember how it felt when I discovered that Robert is fixated on me in a way that goes far beyond his past bullying. My heart was in flutters, but my stomach was all twists and turns.
I try to make sure Sasha’s with me whenever I’m at home, so at least her chatter can cover up the tension that radiates between me and Robert. I think she’s noticed, but she hasn’t said anything.
It’s Thursday morning now, and I’m getting ready for my final shift of the week at Alistair’s. I don’t have to be there until lunchtime, so I’ve got This Morning on the telly as I work through folding my clean laundry.
Right now Molly Willis is on, singing a sexy-sex song that’s probably a bit inappropriate for this time of day. I can’t seem to get away from this pop star. When the song ends and the camera pans back to Phillip Schofield, the presenter has a look on his face like he’s trying to hold in his laughter.
I wish Phillip Schofield was my dad. He seems like he’d be the perfect combination of caring and fun.
When your dad is absent from your life, you tend to have an obsession with imagining what it would be like if random celebrities were your father.
He does a short interview with Molly, asking her if the current rumours about her being pregnant are true. She’s wearing big purple sunglasses, so you can’t really see her face properly.
“Oh, Phillip,” she says, “I think gorging on a roast beef dinner last week was what led to those rumours. Girls do get bloated every once in a while, you know.”
I don’t know what it is about the way she says it, perhaps it’s the set of her mouth, but she seems kind of sad, despite the fact that she’s smiling.
Phillip laughs and ties up the interview, complimenting her on her current number-one single and music video, which has gone viral online. He also tells her that she doesn’t look at all bloated today. Her toned stomach shows just above her black hot pants.
I finish up my laundry folding and go grab my things for work before locking up the house and heading for the Tube station. When I get to the restaurant, it’s a crazy rush. Danni called in sick two hours ago, so we’re short staffed. I barely have time to breathe as I scurry from table to table, taking orders, delivering food, asking if people need anything else, etc.