Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
“You’re going to paint on the side of the garage?”
She nods. “I’m not as good of an artist as you, but I can still work a little magic. It’ll be good enough.”
“It’s daylight,” I point out.
“I wouldn’t be able to see in the dark.”
Rolling my eyes, I motion for her to join me, and we load up into my Bug. Glad I chose it instead of the Camaro, considering it’ll draw less attention. As soon as I start backing out, I tell her, “You’ll get arrested.”
“I’m Rye’s girlfriend, and I have proof of that, considering my mail goes to his address. They all know me around there anyway, and most of them are aware of our prank war.”
“Care if I ask what you’re planning on painting?” I shouldn’t even ask that much.
“A portrait of him, of course,” she says with a shit-eating grin.
Laughing, I drive us out of the subdivision they live in.
“You and Tria don’t seem to talk too much. She said she didn’t even know you were the Ruby they were talking about until New Year’s, since she only knew you as Eliza in school,” Brin says randomly. “Sorry. We were just talking about it the other day, and I got curious.”
“I’m still trying to get used to the new Tria,” I tell her while taking a turn toward town. “Corbin never made me stand out at school. We were friends—close friends—but he didn’t paint me a target to the other girls like he does now by constantly touching me. Back then, Tria only heard my name when the teacher did rollcall. She didn’t notice the ones who didn’t try to standout. The ones who did call attention to themselves learned what a bitch she was—not that she scared me. I just had more important shit going on at home. Petty mean-girl shit wasn’t on my to-do list.”
She laughs while shaking her head. “That doesn’t sound anything like the Tria I know.”
“We all change,” I say with a sigh.
My phone beeps, and I wince while glancing down at it. Corbin. Fucking. Sterling.
“What is it?” Brin asks as I curse and put it back down.
“Corbin is apparently still pissed that I made him twerk in front of everyone.”
She bursts out laughing, and I fight back my own urge to chuckle. At least he owns it when he twerks like a diva.
“What did he say?” she asks, seeming all too amused.
“Supposedly there’s a group thing at Allie and Wren’s tomorrow night. Have you heard anything about it? Because I swear he’s setting shit up and abusing his triple dare.”
“I haven’t heard anything about it,” Brin says with a pout. “And I always get invited.”
“So he is abusing the dare.”
“Does that make it null and void or something?” she asks.
“I wish,” I grumble.
Brin’s phone goes off, and she starts laughing at whatever the text says. As I pull over next to Rye’s garage, she hands me her phone so I can see for myself what she’s finding so amusing. I’m almost scared to look.
RYE: We’re going to Wren’s tomorrow night. If Ruby asks, it’s been planned for a while.
“That asshole,” I hiss, and Brin starts laughing all over again. “You sure you’re not going to get arrested?” I ask her as she starts to get out.
“Positive.”
“Then hand me the cans.”
She squeals excitedly as we walk toward the brick wall of the garage. If Rye is going to be on Corbin’s side, then I’m about to make a point as to why that would be a dumb idea.
“I hope you were planning a naked portrait,” I tell her.
“Definitely.”
“Good. Hope you don’t mind me taking a few creative liberties,” I add, glowering ahead.
I bet he never helps Corbin again.
It doesn’t take long to finish up the masterpiece, considering I used to tag walls as a hobby. But we have gathered quite the audience by the time I toss down the third can. It’s certainly not my best work, but the point has officially been made.
“You forgot his piercing,” Brin says while admiring my work.
“I think I’ve done enough for that area,” I tell her, grinning like the bitch I can be.
Just as we turn around, two uniformed men walk toward us, and my heart sinks to my toes.
“Ladies,” one of the cops says, trying and failing to suppress his grin, “I’m afraid I have to take you in.”
“No,” Brin says dismissively, her eyes nowhere near as panicky as mine. “It’s okay. I’m his girlfriend. We’re in a prank war.”
When I look up, I see Rye leaning out his office window, even though he can’t see our artwork from that angle.
The bastard is grinning.
That’s not good. That’s not good at all.
“Sorry, but the owner of the garage called in the complaint himself,” the second officer says, but he looks a little more serious.
“You said we wouldn’t get arrested,” I hiss at Brin as they start reading us our rights and putting the cuffs on us.