Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 119230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Great. This is exactly what I didn’t want for my first day.
Orlando is far from a father figure in my life, but something tells me that he won’t hesitate to give me the usual you’re such a disappointment speech that most money hungry fathers give their children when they embarrass them in front of their other money hungry friends. Now I’m not one to judge, but I assume scary Jock Dude next door is probably very familiar with that speech.
After quickly getting dressed and feeling like an absolute idiot in my new uniform, I hurry into the bathroom and race through my morning routine. After putting on a flick of mascara and tying my hair into a loose braid, I sling my bag over my shoulder, moving toward the full-length mirror across the room. I have no idea how strict this school is, but I’m not taking any risks, not when I already have Jock Dude to manage.
My gaze raises to the mirror, preparing to give myself the best pep talk of my life, only I stop. My eyes widen, and a gasp rests on my lips as I scan the words scrawled across the mirror in bright red lipstick.
SO PRETTY WHEN YOU SLEEP.
My heart kicks into gear, my hands immediately growing clammy.
What the ever-loving fuck?
Falling back a step, my knees hit the edge of my bed and I collapse, my gaze locked on the lipstick on the mirror. I’ve known fear in my life, plenty of it. You don’t grow up in Hope Falls without learning the true meaning of fear at a young age, but I have never felt anything like this.
Jensen Fucking Channing.
My heart pounds. The guy is a creep, but to sneak into my bedroom while I sleep? To invade my personal space like that? No, absolutely not. I won’t stand for that shit. I warned him yesterday what would happen if he were to fuck with me. He kept referring to me as a sibling, calling me lil sis and trying to get into my head. He’s the worst kind of predator, and I don’t want to end up as one of his victims. That isn’t the life I want for myself. I have to shut this shit down.
I told Mom what he was, I told her what I thought of him, and she still brought us here, still pushed me into this life I didn’t want. What am I supposed to do with that?
Swallowing hard, I throw myself to my feet, the anger pulsing heavily through my veins. Do I tell Mom? Orlando? And if I do, are they just going to shrug it off or are they going to put a stop to this? I know what Mom would have done had Orlando been some random guy that she wasn’t screwing, but now? I’m not so sure.
Stepping out of my room, I scoff to myself, my gaze sailing toward the end of the hallway at Jensen’s bedroom door. It’s shut and there’s not a sound coming from within, but I’m not surprised. I’d still be sound asleep if I spent my night creeping around random girls’ bedrooms and watching them sleep.
Fucking creeper. I’m so angry. I need to vent, but right now, I need to get to school.
I make a point of pulling my door closed firmly behind me before racing down the stairs. I make my way through the big house, stopping by the kitchen to find a small container filled with fruit salad and a side of yogurt with muesli sprinkled on top.
My stomach growls and I scoop it up while glancing around. I’m assuming this is for me, and I suspect that there was some kind of personal chef here early this morning to make it happen. My mom hasn’t made breakfast a day in her life and Orlando … no. It definitely wasn’t him.
Hurrying out the door, I fix my backpack over my shoulder and scurry toward my Honda, ignoring the house directly to my right. I’m just unlocking my car when I hear the front door of my new monstrosity open and glance up to find Mom in a white pantsuit, her hair curled and sprayed, and her makeup flawless.
“Where the hell are you going?” I grunt, my hand pausing on my car door as I stare at her in confusion. She works a million dead-end jobs, each one as shit as the next, but she’s never once missed work and she’s never once come strutting out the door looking like that … except when she’s got a date.
Mom’s head snaps up and she takes me in with wide eyes. “Bri,” she gasps. “What on earth are you still doing here? You should have left ages ago. You’re going to be late for your first day.”
“Yeah, I’m well aware,” I grumble, deciding now probably isn’t the time to bring up the creepy message from my new roommate. “Why are you dressed like that? Don’t you have work?”