Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Dramatic, I know. I blame the teenage hormones. This is probably another crush, like all the crushes I’ve had.
But who am I kidding? It’s not.
Vaughn is obviously not a girl, and this is new territory for me, but that doesn’t stop me from jumping out of my skin with excitement at the prospect of seeing him again.
And I don’t know why I just can’t forget the feeling of his lips against mine, or the way he frowns, or how his muscles looked when he worked out, or how they felt around me when he hugged me from behind.
All of it is etched deep in my soul.
Everything has been playing in my head nonstop over the past week, invading my dreams and my waking moments.
What did I do? Ran away from home, of course.
I mean, not really, as I plan to go back, but I didn’t tell anyone about my trip. Dad would beat the shit out of me if he knew I went to New York after he announced war with Vaughn’s dad, and Mom and Alina would be so worried. They’ve been fawning over me, but Mom is too frail and kind of needs someone to look after her instead.
So I sneaked out of the house, grabbed a taxi, and took a commercial flight. Maybe it’s due to flying, but I don’t feel so good, despite the multiple painkillers I pumped myself full of.
Nausea rises to my throat, and I stop to catch my breath as pain racks my body.
It’s okay. I’ll be fine. Dad always says if I stay strong enough through pain, it’ll eventually go away.
Which is obviously ridiculous because the pain is not going away. If anything, it’s getting sharper and more unbearable.
Goddamn it.
With a deep breath, I stop by the parking lot of Vaughn’s school and pull out the bottle of acetaminophen from my denim jacket and swallow two dry. They better kick in fast, because Vaughn can’t see me as a weakling.
Though he didn’t look down on me when I was weak like Dad does. If anything, he took care of me in the cave. So maybe he’ll do it again?
I smile through the pain, but it soon drops when I recall that he left me there.
Abandon is the word Dad used. He abandoned you in the cave and saved himself while you were being an idiot by getting shot.
No.
I lean against one of the cars to catch my breath. I saw how Vaughn was shaking while suturing my wound, heard the panic in his voice as he tried to stay strong while slapping my face and begging me not to fall asleep.
Someone like that wouldn’t just abandon me.
It’s just not like him.
I watch students drift through the parking lot toward their sleek German cars. My school is just as polished, but there’s something easier in the air here—lighter than the tension that hangs in Chicago. Or maybe that tension is mine, a shadow that follows me because of who my father is.
It’s still August, but apparently, they do some form of a summer class or orientation or something that Vaughn joined last minute according to Cy. Which makes sense. Now that the camp is no more, Vaughn would still want to advance academically during the summer. He’s too studious for his own good.
Anyway, Cy was the one who found this school for me and even got me a visitor’s entrance badge. No clue how he does it, and I don’t ask. But in typical Cy fashion, he did demand to know the reason I want to be here.
He called me an idiot for even liking someone like Vaughn, who’d never like me back, and said that I’d only get hurt. But Cy is the idiot, because he wasn’t in that cave with Vaughn—
My lips curl in a grin when I spot him walking toward me, dressed in delicious-looking black pants and a shirt. Okay, fine, they’re just black clothes, but seriously, he wears them so well, looking all serious and grumpy and shit.
Not even kidding, but my heart lights the fuck up upon seeing him, and the pain that’s been pulsing into my abs recedes to the background.
There are so many things I’ve wanted to ask him and talk to him about. Like what happened between falling asleep, hugging, and waking up in Chicago, or why he didn’t check on me—though he doesn’t have my number, which can be fixed.
I want to thank him for taking care of me and just…maybe meet him sometime, if he can. It doesn’t have to be much, and I won’t push for anything out of his comfort zone since he’s straight.
My grin widens at the thought of introducing him to other possibilities. Maybe, like me, he’s only straight because he hasn’t tried anything else.
At any rate, I need something more. He’s like a maddening itch I can’t seem to reach.