Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“They were relentless until Casey finally broke and couldn’t go back to school.”
“And that’s where you left it? Never tried to reconcile?”
Ha. Over my lifeless, rotting corpse. “I was born with a forgiveness deficiency,” I inform him. “Mila showed her true colors and can go right ahead and fuck off forever.”
“Damn, woman. Guess I must have caught you on a good day for second chances.”
“All you did was piss me off. But she came for my little sister. Nobody fucks with my family and gets a pass.”
RJ watches me with smoldering eyes. “I’m so turned on right now.”
A smile tickles my lips. I swear, this guy always says the right things when I need it most.
We get our snacks and RJ texts Lucas to let him know where we’re going to sit. I remain steadfastly un-fucking-daunted by the moving lips and darting glances in my direction, the conversations that take place in huddled clumps as we traverse the concourse. It’s like I never left. They can all choke on it.
I assure myself the worst is over. I survived a brush with Mila and can therefore pretend to understand soccer in peace. Until we head toward the tunnel to the bleachers, where I come up short to a tap on my shoulder.
“Look at you two.” Clad in his Sandover soccer uniform, Duke stands with his chin raised, exuding snide indignation. His cloudy gaze is fixed on mine and RJ’s joined hands. “Isn’t this a little public?”
“You following me now?” I ask my ex.
He scoffs at the question. “I’m captain of the fucking team.” He sweeps his hard gaze between RJ and me. “Not afraid of word getting around?”
I must’ve been testing makeup on bunnies in a past life. Because I’m being punished. “Have you ever known me to be afraid of anything?” I retort. Then I push forward. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we—”
Duke intercepts my path. “We need to talk. Alone.”
“No.”
His mouth tightens. “Five minutes of your time, Sloane. That’s all I need. It’s important.”
“Dude, she’s told you nicely, and now I’m gonna be a dick about it.” RJ wraps his arm around my waist to bring me closer. “Take the hint and fuck off.”
Duke bristles. “Yeah, I’ll see you real fucking soon, man. Don’t you worry.”
“Do I look worried?”
The two of them look ready to throw down. I’ll admit, my reptile brain does get a little jolt from seeing the protective side of RJ. Ready to defend my honor. It’s hot, even if it is regressive. But hey, we can’t help how society has programmed us for cowboys and roughnecks.
Duke turns to me again. “He’s not doing you any favors, babe. What do you think’ll happen if someone let Daddy know what you’re getting up to?”
“Someone, huh?” I say sarcastically.
He grins, utterly smug. “Never know who might decide to snitch, right?”
“Yeah?” Screw it. I might be engraving my own tombstone, but I’m not living under Duke’s ransom forever. “Take a picture, then.”
I reach up and grab RJ by the back of the head, yanking him toward me to smash our lips together. It’s hot and a little raunchy when he palms my ass. And I’m into it. Shoving my tongue in his mouth and not bothering to control the little moan of arousal that tickles my throat. I know we’re both doing it for spite, but I still can’t help the overwhelming surge of lust that propels me to keep kissing him longer than necessary to get the point across. Hell, I’d be naked and climbing him already if some part of my rational mind didn’t know we were standing in the middle of a stadium crawling with my enemies.
Like I said, I’ve got it bad.
The game is scoreless at halftime after some plays I didn’t entirely follow. A Ballard player was sent off for an ugly tackle that had Fenn sprint thirty yards to shove the guy on his ass. That got Fenn a talking-to as well, but he managed to stay on the field. The foul led to a penalty kick, which the Ballard keeper saved to cheers from one end of the stands and shouts from the Sandover supporter section claiming some infraction I couldn’t explain.
I fucking hate soccer.
While the bleachers empty to make a mad dash for the restrooms, RJ and Lucas start chatting about some computer nonsense I don’t understand. So I pull out my phone, finding a text from my sister.
CASEY: How’s it going? Is it awful being back there?
ME: Not too bad. I talked to Mila and Oliver, but nobody else has had the balls to approach me.
CASEY: Don’t do anything crazy, k?
ME: Define crazy.
CASEY: If people are saying anything about me, just ignore them. No need to start trouble.
ME: No promises.
I hesitate, then send another text.
ME: Are you pissed that I’m here?