Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I’m the last single member of the Jilted Exes’ Club, and I have no plans to change that.
I’m fulfilled with my work at the club, dance classes, yoga, and the Exes. Plus, I’ve been extremely preoccupied with one Kason Maddox, the LA Rebels’ goalie. Let’s just say that since we’ve become friends, my eyes might drift in his general direction a little too much. But it’s only looking. And looking never harmed anyone…
Eventually, our texting sessions lead to dinners out and ending our nights watching our favorite shows. But when the paparazzi catch sight of us and the photos go viral, I suddenly find out I’ve had a boyfriend and didn’t know—a boyfriend without the benefits. And I’m thinking we should reconsider the benefits in this relationship if we are going to be in one.
Kason
So…I thought we were dating. Turns out, the guy I was dating had no idea that’s what we were doing. Friend-zoned without even knowing it. Cool. The equivalent of taking a puck to the face.
But due to an innocent little photo or two, now everyone thinks we’re together, so we have three
1- Stop hanging out to silence the rumors.
2- Hang out as friends and ignore the gossip blogs.
3- Start dating—and both of us are aware of said dating this time.
I know which one I’m rooting for. And if I have to use a little dirty talk and some praise to shift things in my favor, I’m game
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
Anthony
Twelve years old
I’ve never been in such a nice house. It’s like a mansion or one of those places you see on television or hear about in fancy areas of Hollywood where all the stars live. Logically, I knew they had them in Missouri too, but not in my neighborhood or any neighborhood I’ve ever been to.
But now…now this is my neighborhood, and I’m staying with an uncle I didn’t know existed. I’m wearing the kind of nice clothes I never dreamed I could have, and going to a private school with uniforms and kids who look at me like I’m something they stepped in. I might not have had friends at my old school either, but at least they never saw me as trash the way these kids do.
The way my uncle and his wife do.
The teacher’s outside the classroom, and everyone is chatting and joking around me. I tug on the collar of my shirt, wondering how these are comfortable for anyone. Why do we have to have collars and buttons that try to strangle us?
A ball of paper flies across the row and hits me in the side of the head. Anger burns up my spine, exploding at the base of my nape.
“Hey, do you talk?” the asshole asks.
“I don’t think he talks,” another guy says.
“He’s just shy. Leave him alone,” follows a softer, more feminine voice.
“Aww, Wendy, do you have a crush on the new boy who doesn’t know how to talk?”
“Shut up, Lance! Maybe I just feel bad for him. His mom didn’t even love him. She’s abandoned him.”
I listen to them argue around me, about me, the muscles in my body getting tighter, my skin feeling hotter.
It’s not until Lance says, “He’s a loser, a weirdo. If I was his mom, I would have left him too. I feel sorry for his uncle—”
I fly out of the chair before he can get another word out. It’s the first time I’ve ever been in a fight. Lance is taller and broader than me, with a whole lot more muscle, but I don’t care. I get two good hits in before our teacher is back, another one with her, the two of them pulling us apart.
My aunt has to come down to the school to get me after that. She doesn’t speak to me in the car, just tells me they won’t tolerate fighting and sends me to my room.
When I hear my uncle get home, I sneak quietly down the stairs, planning to try to explain what happened. When I hit the third step from the bottom, I hear them.
“Can’t we send him somewhere? You know I don’t want him here, Pete,” my aunt says.
“Keeping him isn’t my first choice either, but I’m not sending him away. At least not yet.”
I listen while they argue about me, about how they never wanted kids but got stuck with me, before I turn, slip back up the stairs, turn on music, and dance. It’s the only place I’ve ever felt like I belong anyway. Dancing is better than crying. I don’t need them, I don’t need anyone, as long as I have this.
I make it through the rest of middle school without any further incidents. I keep to myself, not really knowing how to interact with anyone, even if one of them did want me. But they don’t, just like my mom didn’t, my dad, or my aunt and uncle.
It’s two weeks into my freshman year of high school, when I sneak into the dance studio at lunch. It’s a state-of-the-art facility, their program one of the best in the state. I dance to music that’s only inside my head, lose myself to the movement, to this one and only thing in my life that I love. The only thing that loves me back. Maybe that sounds ridiculous, but I feel it and know it’s true.
By the time I’m done, tears are in my eyes, heart pounding against my chest, breaths heaving, when I hear, “That was incredibly beautiful.”
I jump at the sound of the voice. “Sorry. I’ll go,” I tell the woman.
“Please don’t. What’s your name?”
I look away. “Anthony Damiani, ma’am.”
She smiles, her black twists pulled up into a bun. “Anthony, we would love to have you on our dance team. Have you considered joining?”
It’s all I’ve ever wanted, but I don’t know if I could perform in front of people. “I don’t…I don’t know if I can.”
She looks at me with kindness mixed with sadness. “My name is Aliyah, and I’m the dance coach. I could help you if you’d like.”
My heart soars, hope I haven’t felt in too long, maybe ever, building inside me. I don’t know how I’ll do this, how I’ll get over my issues to have it, but I want it…no, I need it. I don’t care what it takes to have dance, but I’ll find a way. “Yes. Please.”