By Cora Carmack. Mackenzie "Max" Miller has a problem. Her parents have arrived in town for a surprise visit, and if they see her dyed hair, tattoos, and piercings, they just might disown her. All her lies are about to come crashing down around her, but then she meets Cade. Cade moved to Philadelphia to act and to leave his problems behind in Texas.
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No argument here. Then he bailed. No questions asked. No valiant offer to brave meeting the parents. He walked out the door, lit up a cigarette, and took off. For a second, I thought about following him. Now, I just had to figure out what to tell my parents about my suddenly absent library-going-nice-guy-boyfriend.
I scanned the room for an open table. There was a four-top with only one guy sitting at it, and it looked like he was almost done. He had short, brown curls that had been tamed into something neat and clean. He was gorgeous, in that all-American model kind of way. He wore a sweater and a scarf and had a book sitting on his table. This was the kind of guy libraries should use in advertising if they wanted more people to read. But he was looking back at me. Staring, actually. He had the same dark, penetrating eyes as Mace, but they were softer somehow.
And it was like the universe was giving me a gift. I was people watching, filling in imaginary lives to keep my mind off my own life when she looked at me. They both exuded confidence and looked effortlessly cool. The guy was all dark—dark hair, dark eyes, dark tattoos. All his ink that I could see was depressing or violent—skulls and guns and brass knuckles.
She on the other hand was bright—from her vividly red hair to her painted lips that naturally turned upward to her tattoos. She had a few small birds flying up her neck, and what looked like the top of a tree poking out from the heart-shaped neck of her s-style dress. As often as he touched and kissed her, I saw no real connection between them. Like they were part of two different solar systems, neither revolving with or around the other, and both were just with each other for the passing moment.
He just moved her out of the way, and a barista came around and took care of it. Now, he was gone and she was looking at me like I had something she wanted. It made my mouth go dry and stirred something in my chest.
Stirred up other things, too. She walked up to my table, her hips swinging her wide skirt, and I got my first really good look at her face. She was beautiful—full lips, high cheekbones, and a straight nose. A white flower was tucked into her riotous red curls. She looked like the edgy version of a s pinup girl. She was the complete opposite of any girl I had ever dated or thought about dating. She was the complete opposite of Bliss.
I could see now that the tattoo on her chest was definitely a tree. I swallowed, and it took me longer than it should have to avert my gaze to her face. She slid into the seat beside me, and I could smell her. I was still thinking about that damn tree, imagining what the rest of the tattoo looked like, wondering how soft her skin was. She shrugged. They brought to mind several things that were neither nice nor sweet. And part of me was all for duct taping Nice-Guy-Cade and throwing him in the trunk.
That part of me thought spending time with this girl was a very good idea. I can pay you! Anything you want. Create a free website or blog at WordPress. Total 75 Pages: Previous 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 Next.
Faking It by Cora Carmack
Environmental issues, civil rights, corrupt corporations, and politicians you name it, she's probably been involved in a protest. When her latest cause lands her in jail overnight, she meets Silas Moore. He's in for a different kind of fighting. And though he's arrogant and infuriating, she can't help being fascinated with him. Yet another lost cause. Football and trouble are the only things that have ever come naturally to Silas.
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Faking It (Losing It, #2)
Thank you for being my best friend, my teacher, my coach, and nothing like the horrendous moms in my book. You loved me and loved words, and taught me how to love both as well. Thank you. A thousand times, thank you. You would think I would stop subjecting myself to the torture of seeing the girl I loved with another guy.