Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 175455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 877(@200wpm)___ 702(@250wpm)___ 585(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 175455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 877(@200wpm)___ 702(@250wpm)___ 585(@300wpm)
It’s not because they’re from him.
I should probably try to use this to my advantage, try to get him to admit to what he did to me last time he had me on my knees. The way he worded it in this message, just like in the “notes” he wrote me in history class, it all sounds consensual. Naughty talk between lovers, not communication between a psycho and his victim.
Then again, it might be hard to sell that I would even be responding to his messages, if I wanted people to believe that. Maybe if I turned the tides right now, said something about what he did in that classroom to try and trick him into admitting to his crimes, but I’m tired, I don’t feel like potentially provoking his mean side, and I don’t think he’d fall for that anyway.
Instead of trying to trick him, instead of responding at all to his highly inappropriate message, I close out of the app, set my alarm clock, and climb into bed. I know I’ll have to see him at school in the morning, I just hope that visual he planted doesn’t get stuck in my head. The last thing I need is the inability to escape Carter Mahoney even in my dreams.
I’m running late on Wednesday, so by the time I make my way into the school, there are no longer kids assembled outside in their various groups: mere mortals sitting on the black metal benches, the jocks assembled around Carter in front of the wall. I make my way inside with no nasty looks, no whispers, no “Zoey the ho” nonsense. It’s lovely.
Being late to school seems to set me on a path to rushing all day long, though. I barely make it to history before the bell rings, and when I fall into my desk with a huff, I don’t even have time to glance in Carter’s direction before Mr. Hassenfeld begins his lecture.
Once class is over, I gather my things and head straight out the door, lamenting the rumbling of my stomach. Since I got so far behind this morning, I didn’t have time for breakfast, and I didn’t pack myself a lunch. I could buy food in the cafeteria, but that would require going to the cafeteria, and I won’t do that.
Once we are out in the hall, Carter falls into step beside me. “What’s up, Ellis?”
“Nothin’ new,” I tell him.
“Did you fall asleep on me last night?”
I flash him a smile. “Nope, I just stopped responding.”
He feigns a puppy dog pout. “Meanie.”
“I’m sure you didn’t lose too much sleep over it,” I say casually. “You could have always hit up your rally girl; I’m sure she’s always around, ready to dirty talk with you to keep up your team spirit. Best rally girl ever and all that.”
Carter grins over at me. “Man, you are insanely jealous of my rally girl.”
My gaze snaps to his and narrows. “I am not jealous. That’s absurd. Do I find the whole concept of a girl literally assigned to cater to you, give you presents, and fawn all over you just because you know how to throw a football a little archaic? Yes. But it’s not jealousy, and it has nothing to do with you.”
“Hey, rally girls boost our morale and give us encouragement. Our own personal cheerleaders.”
“Right,” I say dryly. “And I’m sure none of you ever take advantage of the stars in their eyes to have sex with them.”
“Is it really taking advantage if they want it?” he questions.
“It’s icky,” I inform him.
He shakes his head, rejecting my explanation. “You’re jealous. Are you territorial, Ellis? Now that you’ve sucked my dick, you don’t want anyone else to? You’re gonna have to be more diligent, if that’s the case. My dick requires a lot more attention than you’re giving it.”
Swallowing down a ball of embarrassment, I snap, “I didn’t willingly show your dick any attention.”
“No?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow. “I seem to remember you saying you wanted it.”
“You made me say that,” I remind him, wide-eyed.
“Nah, I gave you options and you made your choice.”
“You’re insane,” I inform him, aghast.
Not sounding all that concerned, he says, “Maybe.” Then, barely missing a beat, he changes the subject. “So, where do you sit for lunch? I noticed yesterday I never see you. Not that I expect you’d be sitting with the cheerleaders, but I took a quick look around the cafeteria and didn’t see you anywhere else, either.”
“I don’t eat in the cafeteria. Not since all this… stupid Jake stuff started. People stare and make disparaging comments. Your cheerleader friends can be real bitches, and I don’t even know why they care. They should be offended on my behalf, not taking his side. They need their girl cards suspended until they take a remedial class on girl power or something, I swear.”