Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Lights?” Punk asks, confused.
“Yeah! The, oh my God, what are they called?”
My attention snaps to her, irritation sparking hot beneath my skin. Is she for real?
Only she is.
Asher lost two points because he's with a girl who talks like this and thinks that shit is attractive.
“Are you talking about the Northern Lights?” I ask just to shut her up.
She turns frigid for a beat before brushing me off and going back to Punk. “Anyway, so it kind of reminds me of that town.”
My face betrays every thought, and in this cramped pod, my obvious annoyance radiates.
Fifteen minutes later, we stop, and the doors could not open fast enough as I jump out.
I need to get out of here before I do something stupid, like shove her down the mountain and claim it was an accident.
The half-pipe stretches below us, its walls carved into perfect curves of ice and packed snow. Normal riders never venture to the peak. It takes out boarders every year who think they're invincible.
Not me, no way, fuck that. I'm far from invincible. In fact, I wouldn't let my fate rest in God's hands that easily, since I'm sure he'd love nothing more than to take my ass out.
I like breathing too much to test fate.
This spot, though, halfway up, where the powder's still fresh but the risk is manageable. This is perfect. This is where Asher spent hours last year teaching me how to carve properly, his hands on my hips, adjusting my stance until muscle memory took over.
Before her. Before whatever this is.
I don't give a shit if I seem rude. Don't care that Punk's probably laughing quietly or that Atlas is likely watching my every micro-expression. I need space between me and that sugar-coated voice before I snap.
My boots crunch through fresh powder as I trudge toward the starting line. The familiar weight of my board under my arm grounds me, reminds me why I'm here. Not for him. Not for whatever twisted game we're playing. For this, the rush, the freedom, the only place where my head goes quiet.
I drop my board onto the snow with more force than necessary, the slap echoing off the mountain face, and pray that my brain can't keep up.
Chapter 10
Ivy
Irack my gear on the stands and brush snow from my pants. The small gate to the backyard creaks as I push through, yanking off my gloves.
I need a drink. And a night out. Luce would lose her fucking mind.
“I like you,” Atlas says, jogging up behind me and slumping an arm over my shoulder.
I chuckle. “You don't know me.”
He ignores my answer as we come up to the cabana beside the heated pool, and I place my things on top of the table, hoping he removes his fucking arm.
“Ah, but you know, sometimes you don't have to know someone to like them. You can just… hear a lot about them and like them.” He’s playing cute, but I don’t find it all that cute.
I slip my beanie off. “Asher?”
Atlas's smile turns to a full grin. He reminds me of that cat in Alice. Cheeky, full of life, and completely unhinged.
“I mean truly, impeccable for someone to work their way under his skin so badly he has to bring a distraction, but I mean…” he lowers his voice as he draws closer.
I’m immune to flirty men. It’s hard-wired into my brain to ignore them.
Until Asher.
I unclip my suit and shuffle it over my waist. “You’re overthinking it.”
His expression flickers with momentary confusion as I move. As far as similarities between him and his brother go, they stop at their looks.
Where Asher’s tattoos are all black and gray, Atlas’s are an explosion of color.
Where Asher's turquoise eyes burn, Atlas's sparkle.
Interesting.
I push my clothes away, the cold air leaving teeth marks over my exposed skin.
Atlas jerks away with a gulp, as if I’m naked and not in a bikini. “See you later, Ivy!”
The faint sound of the gate closing in the distance rings out, but I’m too focused on the water to care.
I dip my toe in and sigh, before pushing off the rim and diving in. Encased by warmth and silence, I wish I could anchor myself and stay here, alone with my thoughts.
Kicking off the bottom, I resurface, raking my hair back and finding myself face to face with Asher.
Just Asher.
My heart does that weird thing in my chest again and I'm getting seriously fucking sick of it. Close to tearing the bitch out if I have to. It's because you're friends. Like Leon. Like Punk. Like Luce. Like Jord.
Lie. None of them make my chest ache. My stomach gnaw at me from within. Like I’m damn well dying a slow, tedious death.
He tilts his head. “Can I ask you a question?”
No?
“You're going to anyway,” I say, swimming across the way until I'm closer to where he stands.