Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
At this point, I don’t know if I should laugh or feel bad for him, but he’s the one who was being a smart-mouth dick first. It’s easy to be a dick when you don’t have to worry about pushback. Especially when you’re in a role of authority and you’re being that way to a bunch of women. That is, until there is someone who will push you right back. Push isn’t the right word. Jax will yeet the man out of the whole city.
“It’s been a long day, and I’m supposed to lock up the room.” Mr. McIntyre’s tone totally changes.
“Right.” I have never heard one singular, simple word sound like a threat before, but Jax just did it. The whole energy in the room shifts. Blair even rolls her chair back a few inches. Jax turns to face me. “Are you hungry?”
“She’s busy trying to find out about homecoming,” Blair tells him.
“Homecoming?” Jax’s expression gets complex.
“You know. The whole crowning at the football game on homecoming.”
“That’s not this week.”
“No, it’s not this week,” I confirm. “Do you really not know you’re up for homecoming king?”
“I didn’t enter into that shit.”
“You don’t enter, dork.” I laugh, making Jax smile.
“I still haven’t gotten that kiss.” He leans down, pressing his mouth to mine before I can respond. “If I’m the king, then you’re the queen.”
“Still not how that works.” I let go of the front of his shirt that I hadn’t realized I’d grabbed on to. It must have happened when he kissed me.
“You ready, Bunny?”
“That’s cute, that you call her Bunny.” Blair starts shoving things into her bag.
“Yeah, I’m ready.” I pack up the rest of my stuff. As we pass by Mr. McIntyre, Jax pauses and knocks on the end of his desk.
“You have a good night, Jim.” Jax’s hand goes to the small of my back, leading me out of the classroom.
“Jim?” I ask. “You looked into him.”
“I pulled his name to have him looked into. Need to know who he is if he’s going to be around you.”
“Anything else you’ve been up to?”
“I guess I’m becoming king or some shit.” His expression is one of annoyance, making me laugh.
“You know about homecoming king and queen?”
“I know of it. I thought you entered or something. You want to go to the dance?”
“I’ve never thought about it.”
“Then think about it. If you want to go, we’ll go. If you don’t, we can have a slumber party together.”
“A slumber party?” Where does he come up with this shit?
“Food, movies, and a bed.”
“That does sound better than a dance,” I admit. “But slumber parties aren’t about making out and such. No matter what porn you’ve watched before.”
“I don’t know about any slumber parties, but you’re sure as fuck never calling a plumber.”
“Ahh!” I elbow him in his side. Jax throws his arm over my shoulder, tucking me into him. It's his go-to move today. I can't say that I hate it.
In fact, I don't think there is anything I could ever hate about Jax Marino. The man who seems to think I now belong to him. The craziest part of all of this is that I think he might be right.
Chapter Seventeen
JAX
It’s hard to get a read on Kinsley. We haven’t talked about the plans for tonight, and I might be feeling her out by not bringing them up and driving toward her parents' place. It’s not far from school. She used to walk, "used to" being the key word. I hated that shit. I know it’s a crazy safe area, but I still didn’t like it. Too many risks.
I, more than most teens, know the dark parts of life, and some of the darkest people live in high-rise penthouses. Their money is protecting them, but most know better than to pluck a pretty girl off the streets. That would draw attention. Which circles me right back to one of the bigger issues at hand. The missing girl. Still not a fucking clue who it was, and there isn’t any buzz.
“You know I could have walked home, and then you wouldn’t have had to leave practice early.”
“I wanted to leave practice early.” We run the same drills over and over again. I’m ready for the game. I’m not the one who needs to be out there. That’s not me being cocky either. I know my shit. I put in the work that I need to, but it’s all becoming wearing.
In fact, I’m ready for the game to be over. The patience that I once had for shit is wavering. I guess that happens when there are more interesting things to tend to. Now football is really fucking mundane, but I have to remember that some things are motions we must do to move through life. Those are my father’s words, not mine.