Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 151765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
Me: Who is this?
Unknown: Fucking guess. You cost me three friends today.
Oh.
Me: You owe me an apology. It’s your fault you were a bitch and not trusting Clint. He said he vouched for me.
I programmed his name in.
The Dick: I’ve never known a chick to be cool. I didn’t believe him.
Me: That’s your bad. How it went down today isn’t on me. That’s on Cohen.
As I waited, my heart started to pound.
I didn’t understand Scout Raiden. That was obvious. When he came to the table at Pike’s, everyone was subdued. My cousins were fake polite, and only Clint said he’d tell me later what happened. He wouldn’t. Whatever had happened, none of my cousins would tell me.
So, I decided to ask Scout.
Me: What happened today?
The Dick calling.
I yelped, almost dropping the phone, but I hit accept and lay back, firmly ignoring how the flutters in my tummy moved up to my chest.
His voice came through, sounding more mystified than anything. “They didn’t tell you?”
I swallowed, my throat feeling scratchy. “Clint said he’d tell me later, but I don’t think he will.”
He grunted. “Your cousins said their piece. I said mine. Everyone knows where we stand now, but I texted you because shit’s going to come out about Amalia. People are going to talk, and I gotta know if you’re going to feel a certain way in a weak moment and share with your new friend Gem what you saw and heard in that locker room. None of this is about me or you or whatever fucking issue you have with me. It’s about Amalia. She’s fifteen.”
A pang shot through me, splitting me in half. Old demons and haunts rose up. “I had a boyfriend who used to . . .” My heart picked up. What was I doing? I never talked about him, ever. But I heard myself adding, “He hurt me . . . a lot. The reason I’m sharing is because I started dating him when I was fifteen. So no, I’m not going to say shit.”
With that, I hung up.
Me: Don’t call me again.
Me: Also, I saved you in my phone as The Dick. Just so you know. #themoreyouknow
The Dick was right. But also not because nothing came out about Amalia.
The friendship breakdown between the Maroney triplets and the other two stud muffins sitting at the top of the social ladder, Scout Raiden and Cohen Rodriguez, was the biggest highlight.
Then the gossip started about me. I was being blamed for it.
“So . . .” Gem chewed her lip, and I knew she was wondering if we were good enough friends yet for her to pull a friend card and demand to be in the know.
I had no idea what to say, so when I saw my cousins leaving school, I grabbed my stuff. “I gotta go.”
We were in one of the classes where the teacher liked to use worksheets. He’d come in, give us notes in a lecture, and then pass out the worksheets. We were supposed to use the rest of the class to fill them out and hand them in. I thrust mine at Gem. “Fill it out for me? Hand it in? I gotta go.”
“But—”
I was out the door.
To be honest, I didn’t care whether she did the worksheet for me or not. If she didn’t, I’d deal. If she did, then awesome.
My cousins were in the parking lot by the time I grabbed my stuff from my locker and got outside. “Hey!”
They were waiting by Trenton’s truck.
“What are you guys doing?”
Alex folded his arms over his chest, tipping his chin toward the school. “We’re ditching early, going to our house. Wanna come?”
“Don’t you guys have football practice?”
“Not till four today.”
I glanced back at my bike, and Clint shoved off from Alex’s truck. I unlocked it, and he put it in the back, before hopping up and extending a hand my way. I didn’t need it, but I grabbed ahold of it anyway and climbed up and over. Alex got in the front, and Trenton was pulling us out of the parking lot when I saw Scout and Cohen leaving early too.
“He asked for your number, said he was going to apologize,” Clint told me. “He call you?”
Well, shitters. He’d texted. He’d called. But he hadn’t apologize. I didn’t want to cause any more waves.
“He did.”
Clint nodded and settled back as we drove past Scout and Cohen.
Feeling an itch I didn’t like, I took my phone out of my bag.
Me: You need to apologize.
The Dick: “For what,” said The Dick.
Me: So funny. Apologize, now.
The Dick: Gonna shock you, but . . .
I waited, expecting a middle finger emoji.
The Dick: I’m sorry for threatening you and your cousins.
Well. That was surprising, and I didn’t feel so bad for lying to Clint.
I sent him the middle finger emoji instead.