Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 163089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
The emptiness.
It’s probably the emptiness I like the most. That means fewer people on the road and more time for me to think and breathe in the sweet, damp smell of the earth.
Which is why my “riding” friends don’t like it. Many of them just like showing off, and others are nervous about slipping and getting in a freak accident.
Though calling them friends is a stretch. I’ve never had friends. Acquaintances, yes. Friends, no. I get along with everyone, mostly because it will serve me one day. But the moment anyone crosses me or even slightly irritates me, I drop them in the blink of an eye.
I have zero percent tolerance for anything that doesn’t please me, and everyone around me is aware of that. Everyone knows not to get on my bad side.
Everyone except for Preston.
He keeps stretching my patience thin, saying or doing something that grates on my last fucking nerve.
Not only does he refuse to fall in line like everyone else, but he also keeps testing exactly how far he can push before my restraint fractures.
He threatens me. Rejects me. Snaps back without hesitation. And all of that happened within a single encounter—the one at the public skating rink four days ago.
The one I knew he’d go to because I might have followed him through town while he shopped with his younger sister.
It was a version of Preston I hadn’t seen before. Warm, attentive, and smiling without calculation.
He hovered over Miley like a shield, constantly scanning their surroundings as if expecting someone to take her away.
I hadn’t planned to reveal myself that day, but he looked like temptation left unattended. A candy waiting to be unwrapped. And when I noticed a few girls watching him with open interest, instinct took over.
I staked my claim.
It didn’t go as intended since he was far more focused on forcing me to leave.
And I did once I heard Kane was coming. Preston looked like he was on the verge of transforming into the other Preston. The one who withdraws completely, turning into a ghost of himself.
And I didn’t want to trigger that by being there when Kane showed up.
That shouldn’t have been my issue. I’m not normally accused of being altruistic or putting anyone before myself, so Preston’s state shouldn’t have mattered.
My plan was to drag him into a corner and remind him exactly who he belongs to. Whether or not Kane was coming shouldn’t have changed my course of action, but it did.
I’m self-conscious enough to recognize that the balance of power is tipping in Preston’s favor.
He’s impatient, vulgar, and uses humor like a weapon. Not to mention that he keeps testing me and pushing me because I allow him to.
Unlike with everyone else, I don’t have zero percent tolerance for Preston. The actual percentage is frighteningly higher.
But the truth is, I am reaching a limit.
I can’t just let him get away with his bullshit. I’m not that nice. Never was and never will be.
After the rink, I ignored him. Not because he didn’t text first—he did—but he was deflecting as usual, resorting to that deplorable impatience of his.
Preston
Miley won’t stop yapping about you. It’s causing me troublesome auditory poisoning that I’m holding you accountable for.
Hello?
The asshole store called to order more of you.
If you keep ignoring me, I’ll introduce you to my friend—blunt force trauma.
Fine. Let’s pretend you’re not reading these texts as soon as I send them. We both know you can’t stay away from me, Marcus. Let’s see how long you can last before you’re on your knees where you belong.
The prick knows exactly how addicted I am to him. That’s why he keeps pulling these types of stunts left and right. He’s fully aware I won’t drop him.
I can still punish him, though.
He’s been irritable lately. I know because I might have followed him around yesterday after school. What? I never said I’d punish myself—and not seeing his face for too long is certainly a punishment.
Let’s just say Preston is taking the punishment exactly how I’d expect Preston to take a punishment—dramatically.
He was throwing a fit and whining and fighting with Jude just because he got his coffee order wrong.
“Juuude!” he called as they were heading to his car. “Did I say latte? Pretty damn sure I said triple-shot Americano. Black. Like your fucking soul.”
“You don’t need three shots,” Jude dismissed him, scrolling on his phone. “One is enough.”
“Oh, here we go. Doctor Jude picked up his brother’s annoying habits and is now prescribing caffeine limits. It’s ONE shot. One! What am I supposed to do with this—this…bean-flavored water?”
“Drink it.”
He took a sip and gagged theatrically. “Just so you know, this is a crime against humanity.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“Dramatic? Me? You’re the one who messed up. I give you one task. One. Bring coffee. Not solve world hunger. Not develop a soul overnight. Just coffee.”