Page 87 of Wanted You More

Noah’s fists clench, making his swollen knuckles look more white than red. “Is that the type of girl you want to be known as?”

Challenge narrows my eyes. “What kind of girl would that be?”

He doesn’t say anything.

I get closer, until I can feel his heated breath on my face.

From behind me, I hear Kennedy nervously pipe in with, “Um, guys. Maybe this can wait until you both cool down a little.”

I ignore my friend. “I want to hear what Noah thinks I am. I’ve been called a lot by guys, so hopefully it’s at least original.”

“Austen,” Noah warns.

“Go ahead,” I press. “Give me your worst. What kind of girl am I? I let boys see my boobs. I’ve let guys do a lot more than that. I’m sure you have an opinion on that since you always have one on how I live my life. After all, you didn’t want me to change. Remember that little spiel?”

I feel Kennedy’s hand wrap around my arm. She doesn’t try to pull me away, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t ground me.

“Are you going to call me a slut like other guys have called me?” I ask him, waiting for him to speak up. “Are you going to tell me I have too much sex? That I’m tooreckless?”

I still wait on his answer.

For him to say something.

To tell me yes, that’s what he thinks.

To tell me no, I’m not one.

He chooses silence.

Which is as good of a confirmation as any as to what he obviously thinks of me.

Huffing out a laugh to hide the hurt growing in my chest, I say, “I’d rather be with people who I have fun with than settle for someone I don’t even like. If that makes me a whore, then I guess I’ll accept the title with a smile because at least I’m a smart one.”

This time, I let Kennedy pull me away from him without us saying another word. What more is there to say when the silence says everything we need to hear?

That night, after dinner with Kennedy and Lincoln, I get three different texts.

Noah:I would never think that of you

Noah:I was mad

Wolfe:Remember that officer that used to be around Ben Kingsley all the time? The Hanger dude. He was at school today for a presentation and he had a wicked black eye. Everyone asked where he got it but he wouldn’t talk about it

I stare at the text. Who beat up Officer Hanger?

Deep down, I know the answer.

I just choose not to acknowledge it because I have no clue what it means.

Worse, I’ll think it means too much.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Dad picked outa real Christmas tree and decorated it with Wolfe before I came home for winter break. There are lights on the front porch, solar panel candy canes lining the pathway, and a traditional wreath with red bows and bulbs hanging on the front door.

I know I should be happy that it’s one less thing I need to do, but I don’t know what to think about it. “You didn’t answer my question,” Dad says, scaring me from where I’m folding laundry on my bed.

“Jeez, Dad,” I complain, placing a palm over my heart to feel how fast my heart is racing from the jump scare. “I didn’t hear you walk upstairs. What did you say?”

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