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As much time as Tate and I had spent apart, I still had to remind myself that there was stuff I may not know about her anymore.

She looked at me like I had three heads. “Like Avenged Sevenfold?” She held out her arms for me to see the black T-shirt—the Avenged Sevenfold T-shirt— she wore under her little, black cardigan. “M. Shadows is my everything,” she teased.

“Hey.” I partially scowled and partially smiled, pulling her into me. She let out a raspy laugh. “Thank you,” she whispered into my lips, pulling me in.

“You can thank me more later.”

Pulling back, she playfully shoved my chest away. “Go. Go to your appointment and make plans for a New York college.”

I barely had time to roll my eyes before she turned around and walked down the hall.

 

 

 

 

“So your grades look good. Not great but enough to get into a good school.” Ms. Varner opened a file


folder—my folder—and regurgitated the same conversation she’d no doubt spewed at the other three hundred seniors she’d talked to this month.

I sat there, arms at ease on the arm rests with one ankle resting on the other knee. The air in the room was thick, but I stayed because the principal would harass the students who made these meetings difficult. I sat, I stayed, and I would get out as easily as possible.

“What colleges are you considering?” she asked, looking at me with concern. “Undecided.” I barely unclenched my teeth for my usual one-word answers.

Her eyes narrowed, and she studied me for a moment before pulling a packet out of the folder.

“Are you interested in seeing what the career test said about you?” she asked without even looking at me.

“No.”

“It said,” she continued as if I’d said nothing, “that you have strengths in leadership.”

What the…?

“Like a coach?” I blurted out.

Me and sports? Me working in a school for the rest of my life earning shit pay. Yeah, that’d be a whole fucking waste of a life.

She covered her smile with her hand. “No,” her voice cracked with a laugh. “Like the military or politics.”

Like West Point, Mr. Brandt’s voice came back to haunt me.

No, maybe owning my own shop someday or running races, but not driving tanks or flying jets… Wait…

“Yeah, okay.” I shook off the images of me in a cockpit. “I’ll think about it.” I stood up to leave with no intention of thinking about it.

“Jared,” she called, and I stopped. “The test also says you’re a protector, a nurturer...” she trailed off as my eyes widened.

What the fuck?

“You might want to consider careers in health care or youth guidance.” And she looked down, almost embarrassed.

Youth guidance?

My face probably looked like someone just told me I was born from wolves. When I looked at her, I saw a crazy lady.

“Get your test checked,” I grumbled and walked out the door.

A fucking youth guidance pilot?

And she makes money at that job?

My head was all over the place now, and I’d lost the calm from this morning. Usually my brain was like a warehouse. Take one box, open it, deal with it, and put it away before I deal with another box. Now


all the goddamn boxes were open at the same time.



Was it so wrong to just want Tate on the back of my motorcycle forever and not want anything else? I marched through the front office and yanked open the door leading out.

“Jared!” I heard my name yelled—no, bellowed—off to my left and turned to see Madoc stomping towards me.

My shoulders straightened immediately.

He looked pissed. His hair looked like he’d been combing his hands through it, and his lips were tight. “What the fuck is the matter with you?” he accused, and I braced myself for a punch that I was sure


Date: 2015-02-16; view: 837


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