The Perfects Read Online Rachel Van Dyken

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, Forbidden, New Adult, Young Adult Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 79183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)

Everything was perfect.
Until it wasn't.

Until my family took on a foster girl and placed her across the hall from me. A charity case to look good and a person who should have never existed in my world.
I kissed her to get her to stop talking, and then I kissed her again because I liked the taste of her words—I liked her.
It was our secret until we got caught—that night changed everything.

We became strangers living in the same house, seeing the same ghosts of our past mistakes, but I can't stop thinking about us, about those forbidden moments.
I pretend to hate her, I tell her I'll never forgive her, and then Quinn, my ex-best friend, steps into the picture. I can't tell if he actually likes her or if he has a death wish and just likes pissing me off, but what do I say? Stay away from my step-sister?
She's mine?
I've already had her?
Saying that to him would expose what we were and ruin everything.
We're all three of us living multiple lies, and eventually, I know our ivory tower of perfection is going to come crashing down.

He knows my secrets.
I know his.
And now she knows both.

She wants.
He wants.
But I always—always get what I want.

And what I want is the girl, no matter what it may cost me.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Part One

Chapter One


I hate being rich.

This is the only phrase getting repeated in my head over and over again as I stomp through the halls of my high school.

Senior year is supposed to be the time of your life; instead, I’m throwing around fake smiles, fake fist bumps, and even the random high five to people all because I’m student body president—and because my dad’s famous.

And I’m not talking like he owns a billion furniture stores or he’s a politician… no, he doesn’t have a restaurant franchise.

He just owns the town, the same town I live in, the same town named after our family, God help us, and the same town that’s been established as the safest place to live in Idaho four years running!

What an accomplishment. A round of applause, everyone!

He keeps his fucking trophies on the mantle in the living room, you know, next to the key to the city and our perfect little family photo.

Ask me if I’m smiling in it.

He comes from at least a century of a fuck-ton of money which means we’re basically untouchable and that I have to have a sorry-ass smile on my face whenever I’m out in public because the last thing I need to do is make the great McCree family look bad.

I’m pretty sure I’ve made one mistake in my whole life—I ate candy in public, and my dad got mad because my tongue got all red before a press conference.

Yeah, that was it.

That was my one mistake.

Forget smoking weed, getting drunk in public, and wanting to develop a serious addiction to anything that will help me escape. How would I even find the time at this point in my life?

Everything is perfect.

Literally everything.

Except it isn’t.

The only thing I have going for me is that everyone thinks I’m this untouchable asshole prick who sleeps in a different pair of Jordans every night just because he can.

The guys want to be me.

The girls worship me.

And I’m set for life.

Blah, blah, fucking, blah.

So, why do I want to jump off a ten-story building and see how fast the blood leaves my body every single time I have I walk into this high school?

I need to be done with it—with all of it.

God, I can’t wait until college.

At least then I can have a tiny bit of separation from the pressure of it all. I force another smile as I walk into English Lit and take my seat in the back corner next to the window, where I spend at least an hour watching birds fly around and thinking how fucking jealous I am that they’re outside and I’m inside.

At least I have lacrosse practice after this, and I’ll be allowed outside of prison.

I’m paying basically zero attention when my phone starts blowing up. I frown down at it and see a group text from some of my teammates.

Mel: Bro, you holding out on us?

Astin: I mean, seriously—how lucky are you? Fucking prince of potato town and all that.

Me: I have zero clue what you guys are talking about.

Mel: Bulllllllllshit. I just saw the article. Byron sent it over like two minutes ago.

Byron Big B has been added to the conversation.

Astin: Bro, tell him!

Byron Big B: Dude, you’re getting a new roommate! Or shall I say, princess? And I agree with the guys, bullshit you didn’t know. I mean, it’s all over the afternoon news; twitter’s blowing up with pictures of her and your parents all over town.

Me: She? Who is she? And what the hell are you talking about?

They send me a link to an article. I click on it just as one of the office aides knocks on the classroom door and lets themselves in with a note for Mr. Stick-up-his-ass, also known as my English Lit teacher—Mr. Wilder.

He frowns down at the note and then looks directly at me. “Ambrose, you’re needed in the office; grab your things.”

Part of me’s thinking day just got better, and then I think back on the group text and wonder if this walk down the hall will be more like death row than a prison escape.

My mom’s waiting for me at the school office; her eyes are blurry with unshed tears—she’s not allowed to cry in public, but I can tell she wants to.

“Mom?” I frown at her.

She stands, puts on her black Chanel sunglasses, and adjusts her all-black Lululemon outfit.

She’s wearing a ring on almost every finger, and the filler in her lips has yet to go down enough for her not to look like a Kardashian.

She’s beautiful—and I have nothing against a woman doing things to her body, have at it. I just wish that the confidence came from something other than spending money on looking like someone else.

Her dark hair is slicked back into a tight bun. “Honey, something’s happened. We need to go to the house.”