Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 99540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Unlike this girl.
I could tell from one glance that she’s been through a world of trouble … and still, she looked like she was ready for more.
Ready for me.
Someone pulls her attention away from me, and the spell is broken.
But I’m far from done with her … and I like a challenge.
Especially when I haven’t had one in a long time.
“Oh, Cole … won’t you just sing one song? Please?” a girl in the back asks, interrupting my train of thought.
I hadn’t even noticed her sitting there in one of the seats. I wasn’t paying attention, and I still don’t really care.
“No,” I say, clearing my throat as I lower my guitar. The girl who watched me from the doorway is gone, and so is my smirk.
“Aww …” The girl in the seat makes a pouty face. “But I came all the way here to watch you practice.”
I raise a brow. “Tough luck.”
She makes a face as though she didn’t expect me to be such a bag of dicks. Most fans only like me when they hear me sing and play, but when the mic drops and my personality comes out, they finally realize the truth. I’m not someone they should admire. I’m an asshole.
I don’t like being one, but right now, I don’t have time to play for a single girl when I need to practice. And I can’t do that with a fan watching my every move. I’ll make mistakes and stumble over my words, and that’s fucking bad. I can’t let any fan see it.
“Don’t you have class, uhh …?” I don’t even know who she is.
“Judy.” She giggles, tucking her hair behind her ear. “And yeah, but it can wait.”
Suddenly, the bell rings, and the girl instantly gets up. “Shit.”
Bet she didn’t think that through.
“I gotta go, but I have tickets for your next concert, so I’ll see you there!” she says, blowing a kiss at me before leaving through that same door where that one girl was peeking through. Maybe I’ll fuck her backstage later … with the other girl on my mind.
I can’t help it; I’m a grade A bastard. I enjoy mindless sex with girls who’re only with me because I’m popular, because I’m in a band, and because I can sing and play the guitar. They all fall so easily for the image I’ve crafted, and none of them ever get beneath the surface.
Just as it should be.
I tuck my guitar back into the case and snap it shut. Time for my next class, where I’ll most likely have fifteen other girls fawning over every breath I take. I try to ignore them, but it’s so damn hard when they’re hanging on every word uttered from my lips. It does something to a guy’s ego, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.
BANG!
I look up. Ariane smacked her bag on the front table.
“Don’t,” she says.
“What? Get to class?” I raise my brows and smirk at her.
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“No, I don’t. What do you want now?” I snarl.
“Nothing. I want absolutely nothing from you.” She folds her arms. “But she doesn’t either.”
“She?” I cock my head, and a mischievous grin automatically forms on my face.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know who I’m talking about,” she says. “I saw you looking at her.”
Oh … that girl.
Ariane eyes me down with that violent look that she always has when she’s contemplating calling the headmaster or murdering someone. Who knows when she’ll get to that last option, but no way am I going to wait around and see.
“Stay away from her.”
I shrug and throw my bag over my shoulder, clutching my guitar case firmly in my other hand. “Whatever.”
“I mean it, Cole!” she says, stomping her foot.
I pause and cock my head. “Why do you care so much?”
“I … I don’t,” she says, trying to hide a blush behind those luscious blond curls of hers, but I know better. “But she doesn’t need your shit.”
“Right,” I say. In one ear and out the other, as my mom always says.
“Cole!” When she grabs my leather jacket, I stop and jerk myself loose from her grip.
“Don’t,” I growl, and I throw her a harsh look.
She immediately backs off, as she should.
No one fucking touches me, especially not her.
“You can’t,” she says through gritted teeth. “You hear me?”
“You think I’m gonna listen to you?” I scoff. “You’ve got some nerve.”
“Cole, please …” Her lips grow thin, and the concerned look on her face throws me off. She knows how to pack enough punch in her words to go straight for the jugular, and I fucking hate it. I hate that after all this time she still manages to get to me.
“I don’t even care,” I say. “And neither should you.”
When I walk off, she calls after me. “She deserves better than you.”