Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
If only he’d get the message.
In his room, he turns on the light and locks the door, while I glance around warily and realize this is the first time I’ve been here.
RJ’s side of the room is empty. He’s still over at my place, which is both a relief and an irritating notion. RJ gets to hang out at my house past midnight when all my visitors have to leave by ten? Just another one of those double standards my dad loves so much.
On the other hand, if RJ were here right now, he’d be the first one to tell Sloane that I wasn’t studying in Jaz’s dorm, and I’d rather not deal with another lecture from my dad and sister.
Fenn throws me a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, then turns his back while I change. The clothing isn’t exactly my size, but it’s dry and warm.
“You look cute,” he says, eyeing me with that adoring expression that used to make me nervous and excited in the best way and now only fills me with rage.
“No. You don’t get to do that. You effectively kidnapped me. You understand that, right?”
“For your own good.”
“So now what? I’m your prisoner?” I ask, pretending not to notice that he’d stripped out of his wet T-shirt. His abs ripple in the soft lightning of the room.
I wrench my gaze off his bare chest and kneel in front of the mini fridge, where I take an extra-long time to steal a bottle of water. By the time I stand up and uncap the bottle, Fenn has changed into dry clothes of his own.
“Why don’t you tell me what the hell is going on with you lately?” He sits on the arm of the sofa, all self-righteous and proud of himself.
“Nothing’s going on.” And I’m getting real sick of answering that question. “Except that I’m trying to live my life, and no one wants to let me. It’s like you’re all terrified of me becoming my own person.”
“That’s not true.” He rakes a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You’ve changed. All of a sudden you’re picking fights, getting into trouble. Running around in the woods naked and drunk with people who less than a year ago stood in the halls laughing at you. Normally I’d be cheering that you’ve finally stopped caring what people think, but after everything, it feels like a cry for help.”
I’m frustrated too now, speaking through clenched teeth. “I’m not drunk. I had two watered-down beers and the equivalent of one tequila shot. I feel fine. And I’m not asking for help. Least of all from you.”
His reaction is slight but immediate, a flood of hurt filling his eyes before he averts them. For a moment I feel awful. I forget why I hate him. But the sympathy passes just as quickly.
“I’ve been there, okay?” His voice is pleading, eyes imploring. Those sincere blue eyes that are so easy to believe. “Hell, I probably still am. Or would be, if not for you. We get angry and sad and don’t know where to aim it but at ourselves. We try to become someone else. Someone who isn’t carrying around that pain.”
I shake my head, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. I don’t feel buzzed anymore. Just tired and dead sober.
“I know exactly who I’m mad at, Fenn. He’s right in front of me.”
“I get that.”
“I don’t think you do. And tonight only hurt your case. You realize that? Your jealous caveman stunt wasn’t cool,” I say flatly. “You fucking embarrassed me by running into the lake and dragging me away from the party. I know you view me as this innocent princess who’s too pure to strip down to her underwear and go swimming, but I’m allowed to have fun and—”
“Christ! That’s not why I ran into the lake!” he interrupts in aggravation.
“No? So you weren’t jealous?” I challenge.
“No.” He falters. “I mean, yes. I was. Ugh.” He makes an agitated noise. “I was jealous when you started stripping, yes, but that’s not why I went in after you. When he threw you into the water, I…”
Fenn trails off, his expression collapsing.
“You what?” My throat gets tight. Pulse fluttering weakly.
He stands and approaches me. I back away until my shoulders are against the wall and I’m trapped. He stops short when there’s a foot of space between us.
“I panicked,” he admits, his voice cracking slightly. “It was like… like suddenly I was transported back to prom, to that moment when I found you in the lake, and my heart just stopped. I don’t even remember wading into the water tonight. All I remember is Oliver throwing you in, and you went under, and I…I was afraid.”
His breath shudders out on a low wheeze.
I, on the other hand, can’t seem to draw a deep enough breath. My lungs are burning, and my eyes start to sting.