Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Grasping for any type of response, I say, “I was only trying to find my next class.”
“And how were you going to get there when you were hiding around the corner from where I was having a private conversation, huh? Do you think I’m fucking stupid?” A part of me wishes it wasn’t so dark in here so I could see his face, while the other part of me is terrified to see the look in his eyes.
“You know I won’t tell anyone.” A moment passes.
“So, you heard.”
“You know I won’t say anything,” I insist. “I swear. You know you can trust me.”
His growl makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “That’s bullshit. I don’t fucking know you at all. We don’t know each other.”
I want to tell him how wrong he is, but I don’t know if he would even listen or if he’s too far gone into a rage. I do know him. I understood him. And even now, I see through the mask he wears for everybody else at school. I see the real person underneath, and that person is scared and lonely. All I want is to make it so he never has to feel lonely again. Is that so bad?
He leans in closer, and now our noses are touching. More than that, too. His body presses against mine, hard and unforgiving. It isn’t easy to breathe. “Listen to me. I’m going to tell you something, and you’re going to do exactly as I say. You got it?”
“Yes,” I gasp against the hand at my throat.
“You’re not going to say anything about what you heard out there. Not to anybody. Ever. Got it?” I jerk my chin a little since I can’t move my head enough to nod. “And when we see each other around school, you’re not going to act like this happened. We don’t know each other. We’re strangers. Understood?”
This is all wrong. I understand why he’d be like this, but I can’t pretend it feels right. “Is somebody hurting you?”
“Goddammit!” He pounds the side of his fist against the shelving hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. “Don’t do that. Don’t you fucking do that. You don’t know what’s going on. It’s none of your fucking business.”
“I only wanted to help.” I don’t know what I’m thinking. There has to be some way to get through to him. That’s why I reach out and touch my fingertips to his cheek. “Please, just let me—”
I can breathe again, but that’s only because Hayes lets go of my throat so he can take my wrists and pin them over my head. “Don’t touch me. Don’t ever fucking touch me.” His whole body is shaking. Even his voice is. I’ve never seen anyone so close to going over the edge, but he’s fighting to keep from falling over.
“I’m sorry.”
“Didn’t anybody ever tell you it’s not right to touch people without asking? Or maybe you like that. Is that what it is? Do you like having somebody touch you without permission?” He crosses my wrists over each other and holds them tight with one hand while the other encircles my throat again. This time, he squeezes hard enough to make me choke a little.
And he laughs softly when I do. “Not so nice, is it?” He lets go, and I gulp in as much air as I can. He laughs again at my distress before his hand begins a slow journey down my chest. Now my heart is a hammer, thudding so hard I can barely hear anything over the sound of it in my ears.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, trembling, when a dozen different scenarios tear through my panicking brain.
“What do you think?” He cups my boob, gentle at first, but then squeezes hard enough to make me suck in a surprised gasp through clenched teeth. “Not so much fun when you’re on this side of it, is it?”
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“And I’m not trying to hurt you either. I’m only teaching you a lesson.” His grip loosens, but that doesn’t do anything to make me feel better.
“I don’t need you to teach me a lesson.”
“Oh, but it’s obvious you do. Because you can’t leave well enough alone. You couldn’t just turn around and go the other way, could you?” Now his hand travels lower, grazing my stomach and making the muscles jump under my skin. He chuckles. “Sensitive, huh?”
“I get it, okay? You made your point.” I try to squirm away, but he won’t stop grazing my stomach, almost tickling me. Only it’s not funny. It’s torture.
“I say when I’ve made my point.” Just like that, his touch goes from feather-light to almost painful. He grips my hip, pressing it against the shelves, and I feel his fingers digging into my flesh, even through layers of clothing. “Understood?”