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)
Tanner doesn’t say a word, but I’m pretty sure the teacher does. I don’t hear it though. I don’t hear a damn thing except the ferocious, heavy beat of my pulse in my ears. My hands curl into fists on my desk, and I consider the consequences of slamming one of them back, right into his junk, but figure violence on my first day isn’t going to go down well.
So I wait, watching him from the corner of my eye as I sense Ilaria beside me, openly gawking at the scene before her. I can only imagine what she is going to say … actually, I can’t. I don’t know her well enough, but I’m sure it’s not going to be good.
Tanner’s hand slips off the edge of the desk, but he doesn’t move, slowly breathing me in until his hand is right back again, a familiar tube of dark red lipstick clutched between his fingers. He places it dead center of my desk, standing it up for the world to see, knowing damn well that my world is caving in on me.
My eyes widen in horror, realization dawning on me. I suck in a breath, my head whipping around to meet his intense stare, but he’s already gone, his back turned to me as he makes his way to the back of the classroom.
That fucker.
It wasn’t Jensen in my room last night, it was Tanner.
He watched me sleep, snuck in through … I don’t know, the window? Maybe he broke in through the back door and found his way up to my room. Hell, maybe he has some twisted friendship with Jensen and he let him in. All that matters is that he was there, violating my privacy and space, and that’s not okay.
That asshole. I bet he’s so fucking smug sitting in the back of the room, his stare boring into the back of my head, just waiting for me to scoop up the offending lipstick and hide it away like it’s some kind of big secret.
No, he won’t get away with this. It’s one thing to throw taunts at me, block my way in the hallway, and make out like he’s some kind of king on campus, but I draw the line at sneaking into my bedroom. If that’s how he wants to play this, then I’ll rise to the occasion. He may look scary as hell with his bike and all those tatts winding up his strong arms, but he’d be wrong to assume he intimidates me.
I’m not going to lie to myself, it’s comforting knowing that it wasn’t Jensen watching me sleep, but I can’t explain why. Both of them could easily overpower me, however I don’t think Tanner would hurt me … at least, not physically. Jensen on the other hand, he lacks morals, and I don’t doubt that given the chance, he’ll try to take things further. Either way, I’m locking all windows and doors from here on out.
“Alright,” Mrs. Porter says, her narrowed, pissed-off stare sailing across the room and lingering on Tanner, clearly not pleased with his little show. “Get your books out, we’ll be starting the term with a deep dive into the Civil War.”
Keeping my stare locked on the front of the classroom, I grab my notebook and open to a new page before scrawling today’s date in the top corner. I don’t dare look back, and I don’t dare allow him to take another moment of my time. At least, for now. Something tells me that the asshole at the back of the room is going to demand all too much of my attention.
“What the hell was that?” Ilaria screeches under her breath, leaning across from her desk directly beside me as the room fills with noise of rustling papers.
“That,” I murmur back, trying to keep our conversation somewhat private. “Is the bullshit Tanner has been hitting me with. This lipstick,” I say, taking the offending item and sliding it to the top of my desk to allow space for my books. “Is the lipstick he used to write a message on my mirror in the middle of the night.”
“Your mirror?” she questions. “Wait … what do you mean?”
I quickly glance around, making sure no one is listening. “He broke into my room in the middle of the night while I was sleeping and wrote on my mirror like a fucking creeper. I thought it was Jensen at first, but clearly Tanner wanted me to know it was him.”
Ilaria’s jaw goes slack, her eyes widening like saucers as she grips the edge of her desk and leans in closer. “Hold up. There is so much to unpack right now,” she says. “We’ll circle back to the lipstick. But Jensen? Do you mean Jensen Channing? Like, you’re living with Jensen Channing now?”