Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 36506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
“Miss Abrams assaulted another student.” Coach Long cuts his eyes over to me. “You want to explain, or should I?”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I shrug as if I don’t care. That’s a lie. I’d been so extremely pissed at Wyatt, I blew up on him. It all happened so fast. I’m sure if Coach Long had heard what Wyatt said, the doofus would be sitting here in my spot rather than me.
“Fine,” Coach mutters. “I’ll explain. In the middle of class, Miss Abrams turned around in her seat and punched Wyatt Drummond in his throat. The guy couldn’t catch his breath for a good five minutes. She’s lucky she didn’t crush his windpipe.”
I hold up my dainty hand and wriggle my fingers. “Not exactly a lot of power behind this weapon.”
Reid smirks at me and a ripple of heat travels through my nerve endings.
“Not the point,” Coach continues. “You can’t hit people because you don’t like what they say.”
“He was slut shaming,” I huff out in exasperation. “You didn’t hear the part where he said he should send everyone the video of that girl sucking his dick because she was so bad at it despite all her experience. Honestly, he deserved a lot more than what I gave him.”
Reid rubs at the back of his neck, eyebrows furled as if unsure what to do. The way his tattooed bicep bulges is slightly distracting, and I have to force my attention away from it. I feel bad for him having to come play “dad” for me. I’d bet my entire makeup collection he never had to come rescue Brayden from detention.
As Coach Long continues to rat me out, and the possible implications of my assault if Wyatt got his parents involved, I lose interest. Instead, I wonder why my mother doesn’t treat him better.
What’s Mom’s deal anyway?
Reid isn’t like any of her previous boyfriends. He’s strong and steady, like a tree, but he’s more than someone to take care of us. I like how intense he can be and caring. It’s cute how he sort of melts whenever he’s around Brayden. That guy is Reid’s pride and joy. It’s sweet. Plus, Reid can be funny. It’s rare he shows it, but the more time we spend alone, the more I see it.
Mom is taking him for granted.
If Reid was my man, I’d worship the ground he walked on. I’d spend hours in his lap, kissing his sexy mouth and teasing him until we’re both about to explode.
A forbidden pulse aches between my legs, and I have to shift in my seat to make it go away.
I’m tired of this obsession with him, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to get it to fade. If anything, it grows stronger by the day.
Someone snaps me out of my daze. Coach Long points at his door. “Get out of my classroom now, Abrams.”
I notice Reid is holding my phone. After I grab my backpack and pull it on, I swipe it out of his hand, pocketing it in the back of my jeans.
We’re quiet as we walk down the hallway, neither of us speaking until we’re outside. A gust of chilly air swirls around me, sending my shoulder-length chocolate-brown hair spinning up above my head like a tornado.
Reid chuckles. “You look like that girl from The Grinch.”
“Does that make Coach Long The Grinch if I’m Cindy Lou-Who?”
“Don’t take it personally. Brayden says he hates everyone, even him.”
That actually does make me feel better since Brayden is the golden boy.
“So, she’s working late again?” I ask once we’re in Reid’s truck.
He doesn’t look at me when he starts the vehicle. “Yep.”
I gnaw on the inside of my cheek again, noting that it’s getting sore, as I attempt to figure out what’s going on with her. Her texts are vague and overly positive. Since I haven’t seen much of her to get a good read, I’m not sure what to make of it.
Reid, a man of few words, drives in silence, one hand on the steering wheel and the other nervously tapping his jean-clad thigh. Is he hating that he’s my unofficial chauffeur and detention bondsman? I’d hate it if it were me. He has the patience of a saint.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say, voice cracking. “I feel bad you had to go through all this trouble.”
“It’s fine, Em. Sounds like the kid deserved to get his ass kicked.”
I love when he calls me Em.
A smile tugs at my lips. “He really did.”
The awkwardness fades away and then I tell him the good things about my day. One of my favorite makeup influencers followed me back. I pretty much freaked out and screamed when I got the notification. Even Savvy, who’s not exactly a social media queen, thought it was cool when I’d texted her. Reid, bless him, smiles in appreciation, though I’d bet he doesn’t even know what an influencer is.