Total pages in book: 165
Estimated words: 159976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
What if no guy is my type?
I drift my eyes around me, stealing quick glances at the girls and boys loitering in the hall. Seeing his smile. Her eyes. The way he wears his clothes. Her legs. The way he fills out his shirt. What she looks like underneath hers.
And I stop, my gaze lingering on Ava Young. What she looks like when she moves.
Her hair down her back. The softness of her lips. The way she fits her clothes.
My stomach roils, and I feel the tears burn the backs of my eyes. I look away.
I shake my head, clearing my throat and stuffing my shit in my locker. No. It’s just something about Liv. I’m obsessed with her. I’m unhappy and latching on. That’s all she is. Someone to get off on who will keep her mouth shut in an arrangement where I call the shots.
I pull out my forensics book for class, my requirements for science fulfilled last year, but the elective sounded fun, and I knew Liv was taking it. Or had been.
But actually, I kind of like it. Maybe I want to study forensics in college.
Or maybe I thought it would be useful when helping Mrs. Gates. Some of the bodies that come in are pretty interesting.
I walk to class, entering the lab, but as soon as I enter, I see Liv immediately. I stop, my heart leaping.
She reaches up to the blinds on her tiptoes, her black Polo and skirt creeping up, and her shiny, black hair spills down her back in waves. I ache.
She closes the blinds, blocking out the sun, and turns around, red lipstick beautiful and lips looking like they were never swollen from my kisses. Her skin perfect, like it was never hot underneath me.
There’s no evidence of me on her at all anymore.
I stand there, waiting for her to look up, but she doesn’t.
Strolling up to her, I drop my book on the lab table next to hers and reach around her still body, taking one of the tests McCreedy put on our tables.
“This isn’t over,” I say in her ear.
She doesn’t turn around or respond. Her head bowed, she puts her name on the packet and slides a stool across the floor, sitting down.
Students mill around us, entering and finding their seats.
“You came back to school,” I point out, labeling my packet too.
She must want more if she came back. And looking her best today, too.
I look over my shoulder, her back still to me as she begins.
“Say something,” I growl in a low voice.
But she doesn’t. It’s like I’m not even here.
I mean, what did she think was going to happen? I was ambushed, and we’re not dating. That pizza was the first time we’d spent any time together amicably.
I grab my test and pencil and swing around to her table, taking the seat across from her. This isn’t my lab table, but oh well. “I don’t apologize,” I tell her. “So you may as well exhale, because it’s not happening. We’re both leaving, there’s no commitment, and you knew the score.”
She stares at her test, writing and checking boxes as if I’m not talking.
I narrow my eyes. What the hell does she want from me? Fight with me. Do something!
But I don’t know how to battle this Olivia. She won’t talk.
I stare at my test, the teacher starting the timer on the projector and flashing the screen on the whiteboard.
“I gave you my virginity,” I whisper.
Her pencil pauses.
“I’ve had opportunities, Liv.” I swallow, coming as close to an apology as I can manage. “I didn’t hesitate with you.”
I search for her eyes, but she still won’t look at me.
“I never wanted you to stop,” I tell her.
I want more. I want it again.
I want more right now.
My head spins with all the secluded spots we could find in this school, but I know she won’t forgive me that quickly.
Ronald Baxter takes the seat next to me, and Liv finally looks up, meeting my eyes. Her gaze falls to my mouth, and I think she might brush her foot over mine under the table or something, but she takes my test, turns on the Bunsen burner, and I watch wide-eyed as she lights the corner, the papers going up in smoke.
I see Ronald freeze out of the corner of my eye, watching.
“You left me in the rain,” she says quietly, the white papers turning black, curling and peeling. “You left me behind in the rain while you drove off with that prick.”
I stare wide-eyed as my test turns to ash.
“No commitment works for me, but you damn well better be where you say you’re going to be,” she bites out.
And before I can even worry about what Ronald is making of what she’s saying, she dumps my test into the sink, and walks away, taking her papers with her.