A Son of Carver (Carver High #2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

did blame you when Tatum left which was wrong. I’m sorry. For everything. Today in class, I realized as you spewed all the messed up thoughts in your head, that I don’t actually know you. I don’t know anything about you. And it would be helpful if you realized that you don’t really know me either.”
    I’m speechless for a moment. Who is this guy? I may not know him, but I know one thing – he never takes responsibility for his mistakes. Never . And, as far as I can tell, all he is is one big walking mistake. But I think he just took responsibility for the way he’s treated me… and admitted he was wrong. It’s possible that I don’t know him. Highly doubtful, but possible. “Okay,” I tell him.
    “Okay?” he smirks.
    “Yes. Okay. I will be open to the idea that I don’t know you. I will try my hardest to treat you like a human being when forced to be with you. I’ll do my best to get through this semester of assignments with an open mind. But if it turns out that you are exactly who I think you are – a selfish manwhore with limited brain cells who only sees women as gaping vaginas, then we’re gonna have a problem.”
    He’s trying hard to hide his smile. I can tell by the tight press of his lips and the way his eyes are shining and the skin around them is crinkling. “If this is just another joke to you, Nash, then please just skip this whole misunderstood martyr act and come clean with me because I’m not about to embark on some twisted mind game while stuck in all the semen-soaked landscapes of your life.”
    He shakes his head, “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, the amusement still trying to hide behind all his features. “What the hell am I gonna do with you?”
    I raise my eyebrows at him. “Treat me with respect. Stop your eyes from wandering to my breasts every few seconds. Understand that this class is important to me and I will be taking every assignment seriously and I’m gonna expect you to do the same.”
    “It was a rhetorical question.”
    “Well then you shouldn’t have asked it. A rhetorical question is an oxymoron and, you might want to jot this down, I don’t do well with any kind of morons.”
    He lets out an exasperated breath. “Got it,” he tells me while turning and walking away from me, his hand raised in dismissive gesture. “See ya in class tomorrow.”
    His tone sounds exactly like how I feel – aggravated, defeated, completely and totally annoyed.

3
     
     
    My head is aching like it always is after fourth period. Spending an hour in Presley’s personal, tense, toxic space is bad for my brain.
    When I told her I was gonna try… to not hate her… I wasn’t lying. I thought I could knock down her wall of defensiveness and find that vulnerable girl who confessed exactly how screwed up her life is. But nope, haven’t seen her. Not even for a second.
    I rub my temples and pinch my eyes closed. When I open them, Summer’s staring at me from across the cafeteria table with concern on her face. I take out my phone and text her.
    Don’t worry it’s just Presley
    Summer looks at her phone then back up at me with a smile. She finds this whole situation amusing. She, like a lot of other blind people in this school, loves the girl. She finds her to be hilarious and thinks her aversion to me is good for my ego.
    Don’t look at me like that
    She’s not cute
    She texts me back a frowny face emoji. I turn my phone off.
    Ignoring Summer, I turn my attention to the other end of the table where Presley is sitting with Angel. She’s smiling and laughing. He’s playing with a chunk of her long, black hair. It’s a little shocking that she’s letting him touch her. As far as I can tell, she’s the world’s number one man hater. I watch as her long nails rake over the back of his head and her fat, red lips pout at whatever he’s said to her. From a distance, as an observer, she looks normal. Like an actual girl with actual emotions who has it in her to care about