Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
My eye twitched because I knew that woman wasn’t about to snatch my Pop-Tarts from their new hiding spot.
“Like fifty bucks.” With a smile, she reached her thieving little hands inside the recliner and plucked a foil pack from the box before lowering the footrest. Like I would leave that box there for her vulture hands to grab again. “Blueberry is my favorite.”
That was it. That was the last damn straw for today. Lying about work. Stealing my Pop-Tarts with a pretty smile. I pushed off the doorframe and tackled her to the floor.
“Hendrix, you—” she grunted, then elbowed me in the ribs— “dickhead.”
“Oh, I’m the dickhead, huh?”
I tried to ignore the way her tits felt pressed against my stomach, but my dick refused. She wriggled under my hold, and it swelled against my zipper. Even when I was annoyed as hell at her, I still wanted to fuck her.
I snatched the pastry from her hands before I shoved onto my elbows. “I know you’re obsessed with Stranger Things. And you know, ‘friends don’t fucking lie.” It was a line from the show she’d recited to Zepp one time when he lied about accidentally breaking the tacky chandelier she’d found in an alley and hung in our living room. He hit his head on it every day for a month before he took it down and smashed it.
She frowned. “You’re acting more weird than normal.”
“Because you’re acting even more like a liar than normal.” I just wanted her to come clean on her own, but she was committed, if nothing else. “I went to The Squealing Hog after school,” I said, and her green eyes narrowed. “Barrington Ken told me you got fired. Where were you?”
“I did not get fired. Thank you.” She shoved at my chest, but I didn’t budge. “I quit.”
“Bullshit.” I shoved to my feet, taking the pack of Pop-Tarts with me to the sofa. “He told me you dumped tea all over a girl.”
“Yeah, and quit before I got fired.”
“Same thing.”
On a frustrated groan, she stood up and folded her arms over her chest before falling onto the recliner. It rocked back far enough the headrest banged the wall. “This is your fault. I’ve had nothing but crap off Barrington ever since you beat up Ethan.”
My fault she got fired? That was rich as dogshit. I chucked the foil package onto the coffee table with a glare. “How does me knocking Prince Rapeydick out have anything to do with you dumping tea on someone?”
Her jaw ticced as she glared at a spot on the wall. “One of his bitchy little girlfriends called you white trash. I snapped, okay?”
Her anger sent a little flare of affection shooting through my chest. She had a temper. I had a temper. But nothing compared to the temper we had when it came to each other. And yet… friends. I stared across the room at her, more confused than ever. Her actions didn’t line up with her words.
“So, you snapped because some Barrington girl called your white-trash friend white trash?”
Her narrowed attention moved my face. “Yes.”
We stared at each other from opposite sides of the room while the voice of an overly enthusiastic man trying to sell Hondas came from the TV. “You don’t want to just be my friend, Lola. And you fucking know it.”
“We might need to be just friends, Hendrix, but that doesn’t mean she gets to call you white trash. No one does.”
That didn’t make any sense. There was no reason we needed to just be friends—especially not one she could argue. I was the one who’d been wronged. The one willing to forgive. The hiss of water hitting the eye came from the kitchen.
“Whatever, Lola.”
I got up and went to turn the temperature down. My emotions ping-ponged all over the place, bouncing from frustrated and annoyed to stressed out about how the hell we were going to live. I didn’t know which way was up when it came to her, and I hated it. This wasn’t what I was used to with her. It wasn’t something I wanted to get used to.
Floorboards behind me creaked when I moved to the pantry to grab a box of macaroni and a can of Vienna sausages. “I’m sorry,” she said, stepping into the doorway. “I was hoping to get another job before I had to tell you. You know I’ll always find a way to pay you…”
Deep down, I knew she would. We’d always figured shit out. Nodding, I went back to the stove and dumped the pasta into the pot. Honestly, I was more annoyed that she’d lied to me. Lola had always been one of the few people I never had to try to decipher.
Until I did.
Until Jessica, not Lola, told me Lola was pregnant.
Until I pawned my guitar to buy her a ring, only for her to turn around and tell me it wasn’t mine.