Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
I hurry into the bathroom and quickly get myself ready, wanting to know more about the body being gone, but other thoughts start to pop into my head. When I enter the kitchen, Bam is putting two plates down on the table with bacon and eggs.
“Bam, what if they saw us?”
“I’ve been wondering that too.” He lets out a sigh.
“Did you get any sleep? I’m a nightmare with no sleep.”
“I got a few hours, but I don’t need much.” He pulls out a chair, nodding for me to sit down and eat.
“I don’t get it. Why leave the body for so long and then come back?”
“Waiting for nightfall. Less people on the streets.”
“Right.” That makes sense. I pick up a piece of my bacon and take a bite. “And if they saw us?”
“Not sure yet.” He clicks his tongue, leaning back in the chair he took across from me. I can tell he is thinking. “But we need to stick together. You don’t go to random places without me. I take you, and you stay put until I’m back.”
“I mean, I’m okay with that, but don’t you have a life?” I’m sure he has other things he needs to handle. Bam can’t be at my beck and call. That does sound nice, though. I mean, come on. He’s not hard on the eyes.
“I’m your assistant,” he reminds me. “You’re my life now.”
“Right,” I laugh, taking another bite of my breakfast, but Bam’s face remains serious. “You really think this person would do anything if they saw us?”
“There is no reason for us not to pretend they won’t.”
“Better safe than sorry, I suppose.”
“The only one who will be sorry is the person that touches a hair on your head.” I want to laugh, but again, his face is dead serious.
“Except you.” He leans over, tugging on one of my curls that escaped the hair tie I used to pile them on top of my head.
“Except me,” Bam agrees, making me smile.
Crap, he’s going to make me fall in love with him if I’m not more careful.
Chapter Nine
BAM
“Thanks for walking me to school. I feel kind of like I’m starring in my own teen drama.” She shifts her backpack from one shoulder to the other. I want to sweep her up and kiss her until she’s pink and breathless. Since I haven’t watched many of these shows she’s talking about, I don’t know how that would go over. I fish for a hint. “What happens next, in these teen dramas?”
“Depends on what part of the drama we’re in. Is it the first part where I’m still being bullied or the last part where I exact my revenge on everyone?”
I glance around the entrance of the school suspiciously. “The last part because the first part wouldn’t happen for very long if I was around.”
“No one is bullying me here.” She holds out her arms. “Do I look like someone who would shut up if someone was being rude to me?”
I grab the backpack off her arm and sling it over my back. “No.” But you never know. I decide I want to take a look around. “Why don’t you show me around?”
“The school? It’s like every other high school.”
“Great. Then I won’t get lost. Lead the way.”
She stares at me with narrowed eyes for a few seconds before accepting that I’m a stubborn asshole who isn’t going anywhere but up the stairs and through the double doors. Because we loitered at the entrance, Josie’s homeroom is almost full when we arrive.
“There are no empty seats in this class,” she tells me, holding out her hand for her bag.
I keep a hold of it. “I’ll find one.”
She rolls her eyes before walking to her own desk which, inconveniently, is two rows from the front and in the middle. I’m going to have to co-opt someone else’s desk, which is bound to cause a ruckus. Josie won’t be happy.
She watches me with some mild amusement as she correctly reads my predicament. She taps her bare wrist, telling me that the clock is ticking. I hold up my index finger in reply. One minute, I silently say. Then I speed out of the classroom, go next door, grab the first empty chair, and return, triumphant, with it over my head.
“There,” I say, setting the chair, and my ass, next to Josie. “Problem solved.”
“You still stole someone’s seat.”
“Yes, but from next door, and once the bell rings, the doors lock, right?” At least that was how it was in our school. It was a safety measure due to the school shootings.
“From the inside,” she reminds me.
“I must have been sleeping during the drills,” I admit. Or, more likely, I wasn’t even at school. I spent most of my days not going to class. That may affect my ability to graduate according to the principal, but I’m not going to let little details get me down. It’s not like a guy with a juvenile record like mine is getting a lot of job offers that require a high school diploma.