Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 142833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Jason squints at Toren before his eyes dart back to mine. "Isn't that the guy who owns the motorcycle place in town? I think I bought my bike from him."
"Yeah...we're not really related, though. He's my dad's best friend."
Tor is coming farther down the driveway toward us, his black leather boots thumping heavily along the stone, his eyes riveted on the boy that just had his hands on me. "You hear me?" he points a finger at Jason, his inked arm muscles bulging menacingly. "I don't want her on that fuckin’ bike again."
"Yes, sir." Jason calls back, visibly paling.
"I better go inside before he starts foaming at the mouth," I throw my purse strap over my shoulder. "Have fun tonight at the party."
"You could come to the party with me." The teasing glint in his eye and his slightly raised eyebrow hints at more than just a party, and while I should be jumping up and down at the chance since he's one of the hottest guys in my class, he seemed way more interesting from afar. Before he proved he can't kiss and has zero conversation skills. I'd much rather stay home and read a book or hang out with my father's friends who are coming over tonight for a bonfire.
"I really can't, Jase. I'm sorry." Not sorry. "I'll call you."
Before Jason has a chance to reply I head up the long cobblestone driveway, glaring daggers at Toren as I walk by him.
"Hey, listen to me," he turns and catches up to me as Jason speeds off down the street. "That kid just got his motorcycle license. You don't get on a bike with someone who barely knows how to ride. He's way too squirrely. You could get killed. You can ride with me or your dad or your uncles, but not some fucking kid."
"I was only on it for like six miles to get home from school. Stop yelling at me. You're not my father," I throw back.
"I'm close enough. I mean it, stay off that bike."
"Fine, Uncle Tor. Don't get all rabid."
"I'm not even close to rabid. Yet." He rushes ahead as we approach the house and climb the stairs of the back deck to open the french doors for me that lead into the kitchen. Inside, bags of groceries are lined up on the granite-topped center island. Twice a month my father likes to have his friends and the members of his band over to hang out in the back yard, eat, have a few drinks, take a dip in the pool, and jam a little. Toren usually brings over the food and alcohol and sets everything up.
I should help him put the food away, but I'm not in the best of moods. I just want to be alone so I disappear down the hall and up the stairs to my bedroom, closing the door behind me. After kicking off my shoes, I collapse onto the bed and stare up at the vaulted ceiling. Just one more month 'til my high school graduation and then I can get away from the drama, fake friends, drunken parties, and groping boys who don't know how to kiss.
What will I do then? Not a freakin' clue. I just know I want to get away from school and the people in it.
I don't fit in with them. I never have. My parents were only fifteen years old when they had me. Still in high school themselves, attending the very same school I'm graduating from, in fact. Some of my teachers were also their teachers, and of course, the entire faculty knows this. It's a bit bizarre to think that my mother was pregnant with me, sitting in the same exact classrooms I sit in now. Maybe that's why I'm so smart - I was in high school in utero.
I was born into a family of rather famous people. My grandfather is a popular singer and songwriter from the seventies, and my grandmother is a best-selling romance author who has written over one hundred books, twenty of them turned into television movies. My parents started a rock band when they were seventeen, and both went on to become well-known musicians. My father’s band, Ashes & Embers, now consists of his three brothers and two cousins. I grew up right in the middle of all of this; by the time I was ten years old, I was certainly no stranger to tour buses, loud concerts, drugs, and drama. But despite all that, I was loved and adored. I was everyone's baby, really. Everyone took care of me. I wasn't hidden from much that went on, and that wasn't because my parents were negligent or irresponsible. They just wanted me to be a part of everything they were doing. They exposed me to things in life way before I could truly understand them, but in time it all caught up and sunk in. I think that made me older and wiser earlier than I should be, which has made me feel out of step with everyone else my age.