Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
“She’s not right for you, Lev. You deserve so much better. She’s deadweight!” Thalia grabs the lapels of my varsity and clings to it like a lifeline.
I shake her off. “You’re just confused because you grew up together. You and I…we’re both top athletes.”
“And this matters because?”
“We want the same things.”
“No. I want her.”
“She’s a junkie!” Thalia snaps, and this is when I lose the remainder of my goddamn patience for her.
“Better a junkie than a loser. It’s not like you have your shit together. Bailey is a good person in a bad situation. You, on the other hand, are a menace to society and such a waste of oxygen, I’m surprised the government didn’t declare you a fucking global warming problem,” I spit out, losing my cool. “Don’t try comparing yourself to her. You’ll always come out short.”
Thalia forces herself to smile, even though she’d probably love nothing but to slap me.
“You’ll never understand a survivalist—a person who fights for their existence. Your instincts are too dull, Lev Cole.” She licks her lips, hanging those empty, generic-blue eyes on my face.
How could I ever have compared them to the tranquility and solitude oozing from Dove’s arctic blues?
“You may have a six-pack, but for all intents and purposes, you’re a fat cat. Satisfied, content, spoiled.” It’s amazing how much she doesn’t know me. My journey. My struggles. But maybe that’s not on her. I never did let her in. Thalia pouts seductively, running a manicured finger over my chest. “But I’ll still give you a chance to change your mind, because you have all the power here, and I still think what we have is salvageable. The offer still stands, but not for long, Lev. Call me when you get a clue.” She tosses her hair over one shoulder.
Turning around from her, I’m about to haul ass to Bailey and explain everything, but by the time I make a move, she’s gone.
Her car is gone. She left before she witnessed this fight.
She probably thinks Thalia and I are together, and for an addict trying to stay on the right path, that’s a big fucking problem.
Skipping school isn’t even a question of if but how fucking quickly I can sprint my ass to my car.
It takes me ten minutes to get home—five less than it normally does when I refrain from pissing all over every driving rule in existence—and I barge into her house, panting.
I run up to her room, and it’s empty. I rummage the house for a sign of her, then notice the rocking chair outside is moving rhythmically up and down. Bingo.
Pushing her balcony doors open, I start, “Bails, I can explain—”
“Please don’t,” Jaime responds laconically, just as I round the chair facing the pool and realize he is the one occupying it.
He’s holding a fizzy pink lemonade and a copy of The Economist, his aviator shades on. “My teenage drama days are long gone—just the way I like ’em.”
Standing up straighter and trying to resemble someone he might consider as his son-in-law one day, I say, “Hi, Mr. F. Have you seen Bailey?”
“I have, plenty of times. But not in the last couple hours. She’s dropping some of her old clothes off at Goodwill. You’re welcome to wait for her here.”
“I’ll come back in an hour,” I mutter.
Jaime looks up from his newspaper, smiling. “If you say.”
What the fuck is that supposed to mean? “I do say.”
“Watch that tone, Levy boy.”
“What’s the problem?”
“The problem is, there’s saying and then there’s doing. Like, if you say, tell everyone who is close to you how much you wanna go to the Air Force Academy but in practice continue playing ball to appease your father even though it would kill him to know he clipped your wings like that, your word ain’t worth much. You feeling me?”
Jaime has always been like a second father to me—came with the territory of being so close with Bails—so this cuts deep.
“Dad doesn’t—”
“Oh, he does. Bailey had a word with him,” Jaime says. Fuck. That’s why he questioned me this morning about colleges. I misread that whole thing.
Also: Bailey stood up for me?
Bad. Ass.
No wonder I want all of her seconds.
“He was so against it,” I say, barely audible.
“Yeah, well, my kid has a knack for persuading people to do stuff.”
True that. Bailey is the best. She made Dad see reason. But how?
“This neighborhood is way too fucking small and nosy,” I mutter, turning around and marching toward my house.
His laughter rings in my ears all the way to my door. “Youth is wasted on the young, buddy.”
CHAPTER 31
Lev
Miserable Fact #15: In one version of the telegraph code, “LOL” means loss of life.
Glancing at the time on my phone, I decide to drive to Goodwill.
I can probably catch Bailey still. But when I arrive there, she isn’t around.