Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
The mid-seventies air feels different from what I’m used to in Arizona. I’ve lived in a lot of places, but I spent my teenage years there. It’s dryer in Arizona, and much warmer than here.
The trail I follow leads to running paths through the woods behind campus. The leaves are all vivid oranges and reds. Fall in Massachusetts is unbelievable. It was Mom’s favorite season. She used to tell me how much she loved the leaves, which is why she and my father got married in the fall.
I turn the music up, try to focus on the guitar riffs and the sound of drums as Pearl Jam sings about being alive. I’ve always liked older music. I can’t tell you how many times my mom said I have an old soul, just like my dad did, though the latter is not something I ever got to experience myself.
Thinking about them makes me run faster, harder, farther. Makes me keep going until my chest is too tight and my legs feel like they’re going to give out.
*
Aislin isn’t in class on Tuesday. I’ve seen her every Tuesday and Thursday during this hour since school started. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle that she’s not here, after what happened to her on Friday night. She hasn’t texted me either, which doesn’t help the confusing nerves making me feel like a ball of anxiety. What if something happened to her? Tiernan wouldn’t let that happen. He would protect her, but then, he hadn’t been the one to protect her Friday night. No. That had been me.
Nervous energy makes my leg bounce up and down through the whole class. The second it’s over and I’m outside, I pull out my cell and send her a message.
Hey…it’s Dean. Are you okay?
I roll my eyes. Obviously, it’s Dean. Would she think someone stole my phone to check on her? But it’s easier to focus on that than the fact that there’s honest worry here, which fills my chest with fire aimed at no one but myself.
Still, when my phone buzzes, I’m fumbling it to open the screen and see her reply.
I’m okay. Just haven’t been feeling well, and we have a lot going on. I’m staying with my brother. I’ll see you in class on Thursday.
The concern I felt seconds ago evaporates, and shame slithers in. Aislin isn’t my responsibility.
Like I often do after this class, I grab lunch at the café. It has nothing to do with Tiernan. I don’t even remember the last time I saw him there. But I can’t pretend I’m not curious what she meant by “we have a lot going on.” She went from I when she was talking about not feeling well, to we.
I grab a sandwich and a bottle of water, then find an empty table outside, to see what else I can dig up. I went from jogging and drawing all weekend to searching for this Mike guy. He wasn’t hard to find, especially his name—Michael Jensen—and I’m good at covering my tracks online.
My sandwich’s only half eaten when I find what I’m looking for. He’s from a small town in Ohio, one of the good ole boys who plays football and was a town favorite. Apparently, though, Mikey is a fucking sicko because what almost happened with Aislin isn’t a first for him. At sixteen he raped a girl at a party. His wealthy family played hardball, bringing her past into it, that she’d been drinking and, of course, what she’d been wearing. When they were finished with her, she was labeled the town slut, moved away, and that motherfucker was set free to try to do the same thing to Aislin.
I slam my laptop closed, harder than I should, then shove it into my backpack. My next class forgotten, I head straight for Tiernan’s house.
There are a couple of cars in front when I arrive. I knock on the door, feet shuffling, what I learned fighting to break free. I wanted this Michael to hurt before, but that’s nothing to the rage making me feel like there’s a timebomb inside me that can go off at any second.
A moment later, the door is pulled open by a messy-haired Cillian.
“Get Tiernan.”
He frowns. “Fuck off, New Kid. I don’t think you realize who you’re talking to. T might deal with it because he wants to fuck you, but I won’t.”
I roll my eyes. Jesus, they’re all cocky idiots. “I need to talk to Tiernan. It’s important.”
He crosses his arms and leans against the doorjamb. “Well, how do you know he wants to talk to you? Maybe he’s…busy with someone else right now.”
The bomb that’s lived inside me since I was four years old ticks, ticks, even closer to detonation.
“Who the fuck is he with?” falls from my mouth. He was at my dorm blowing me and asking for my number, only to ignore me and already be putting his dick somewhere else?