Those Heartless Boys (Saint Clary's University, #1)

by E.M. Moore

Dickie pulls his gun up to a shooting position, tucking his chin against the butt. “Where I’m from, when a girl falls on her bike, you run over to help her. Only assholes stay back. Are you an asshole, boy?”

“Your dad kept you locked away like I was the big, bad wolf.” I breathe out. “Aren’t you?”

“That good, Tits?” “You can’t call her Tits,” Stone says, voice firm as well...stone. Apt, of course, as everything Stone Jacobs does is ruled, measured, and well thought out. “Why not? Lucas gets to call her Wild Girl.” “Tits is so demeaning,” Stone says nonchalantly like we’re discussing the weather. “Mmm,” Wyatt says, setting the cinnamon rolls down within reaching distance. I grab one just as he says, “You think that because you haven’t seen them yet.”

My mind is a wonderful place to be. I’ve always thought so. The things my brain can conjure up to take me out of my everyday surroundings makes it my most precious commodity. When life was hard, my imagination kept me sane.

It was a long time before I accepted the fact that gifts among friends are just that: Gifts. There’s no payback necessary. No one’s holding it over your head, wishing you would pay up already.”