Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
He snickers. “Ooh, I like it feisty. Look how hard you’re making me already.”
As I look, he’s already got a semi.
“Dude!” Alexei says. “Put that thing away.”
“Any volunteers?” Brad asks, which earns a groan from Seth, and I roll my eyes and head to my locker.
That may have diffused the tension for now, but given how Brad was on the field and how he treated me since, I already know I’ve found a mortal enemy at St. Lawrence.
2
LUKE
“What the hell is that guy’s problem?” I ask Alexei as soon as we get back to our dorm room.
He turns to me, wide-eyed. “Honestly, Luke, I have no idea. That is not the Brad I know. That cheap shot he made on the field—did you see how the other guys were acting? Everyone was thrown. Brad is a stand-up guy…usually.”
“Tell me you know that’s not true anymore. Or are you gonna put this on me because you’ve known him longer?”
I’m more than a little defensive since he’s described Brad as his friend. And as cool as Alexei’s been to hang with the past couple of weeks, I can’t help judging him, just like I’m judging Seth for his association with that fucker.
Alexei throws his hands up in surrender. “Brad was in the wrong. I said that. You saw I had your back. I’m also a scholarship boy, and he’s never said anything like that to me. This all blows my mind.”
Well, shit. I’m taking this out on the wrong guy. I’m normally much more in control, but something about Brad Henning hits at a sore spot in me, beyond simply being pissed at an asshole. Like something about him is a threat to my very soul.
After losing both my parents by the time I turned fourteen—Dad to a brain aneurysm, then Mom to a car accident four years later—I pulled away from the friends I had and didn’t try to make new ones. And when I didn’t have friends anymore, or maybe simply because bullies could sense my vulnerability from everything I’d been through, I became a target, something my uncle Dan, who’d taken me in, had to put a stop to through school admins. Still, by sophomore year, I’d learned how to stand up to assholes like Brad even if it meant throwing a punch or getting my ass handed to me. So if this guy thinks he’s gonna use me as his doormat, he’s got another thing coming.
“I’ll chat with him,” Alexei says. “See if we can bridge whatever the fuck misunderstanding this is.”
I toss my bag on my bed. “This isn’t a misunderstanding. He went after me unprovoked. He didn’t apologize. Just kept digging. And then Seth…”
I stop myself. If I mention what happened when Seth told me I didn’t mind, Alexei’s gonna think I’ve lost it.
“I’m sorry, Luke. You’ve been cooped up in here reading and watching TV, and I thought it might be nice to get out.”
He’s right. I knew I needed to push myself to get out. As one therapist told me a few years after my parents’ deaths, “You keep people at a distance. Do you think it’s out of fear of losing them like you did your parents?” As if my uncle needed to pay a hundred and seventy bucks for someone to pick up on that one. Although, as annoying as the advice sounded at the time, it’s part of what got me hanging with Alexei and forcing myself to be more social.
It also reminds me that Alexei is not the one I should be dumping all this on. Unlike Brad, he’s trying to be friendly. And it wasn’t a total waste. In fact, after my incident with Brad, several guys and girls from the teams came up to me and made an extra effort to make me feel welcome. Brad doesn’t represent the whole damn school.
“That said,” Alexei adds, “if you don’t want to go to a pickup meet again, I’ll totally understand.”
“Oh, I’m definitely going now.”
He tilts his head, surely confused by my position.
“I’ve been around enough guys like Brad to know that if I give in, I’ll never hear the end of it. I’m gonna show that fucker I’m not the kind of guy he can intimidate.”
He smirks. “I knew I liked you.” Then his brow tenses. “Hey, maybe that’s what’s up with Brad. Maybe he likes you…?”
“I seriously hope you aren’t suggesting he was pulling my pigtails. That’s problematic behavior, not a sign of—”
“We both saw what his dick was doing in the showers. Might not be a healthy way of reacting or an excuse, but he’s gay, and…Pretty Boy?” He chuckles.
“I don’t know what you’re laughing about,” I tease. “I’m a hot motherfucker.”
That’s not really true. Not that I’m unattractive, but I’m probably average in the looks department.
We both burst into a laugh, and it’s nice that despite how fucked up that shit was, I’m able to laugh about it.