Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
It didn’t take more than a second. Like he’d sensed Hop’s presence, Rafe’s head turned and their gazes collided. Rafe’s eyes were exactly as he remembered, a rich warm brown scattered with flecks of gold. They were eyes of a tycoon and still held the power of Rafe’s ever-present confidence.
“What are you doing here?” Hop asked. He thought he’d gotten over his stupid crush, but the way his heart sped up like a rocket called him a liar.
“Hopkins—”
“Hop.”
The muscles in Rafe’s jaw twitched. His nostrils flared. He mumbled something under his breath. “I wasn’t sure you still lived here.”
Hop wasn’t ashamed that he still lived with his mom. It kept him sane. “I thought you never wanted to see me again.”
“I said that in anger.”
“No shit.” Hop didn’t have time for this, work was waiting. He moved to pass Rafe so he could get to the exit, but Rafe grabbed his elbow.
“Hold on. Give me a second.”
Hop shook him off. “I let you get away with putting hands on me last time, don’t think it’ll happen again.” He’d felt the burn for days afterward. He pushed at the doors to leave.
“Hopkins.”
He glared at Rafe over his shoulder. “It’s Hop. Hop. Like a fucking bunny. It’s not hard.” Cold air hit him when he finally got the door open but he didn’t slow down. He couldn’t slow down. He’d run all the way to the shop if he had to.
Anyway, anger kept him warm.
Yeah, anger. Just anger, nothing else was burning him up inside.
He kept telling himself that all the way to work.
* * *
Rafe stood outside the department store as icy wind whipped around him—through him. Fuck it was cold. He’d been standing there for ten minutes already and hadn’t been able to work up to actually stepping inside no matter how much warmer it’d be.
Considering Hopkins—no, Hop, like a fucking bunny—worked there and no doubt Hop would freeze him out again, Rafe had stayed put. He still hadn’t figured out how to get through to the guy or to any of the Sassy Boyz. Hop wasn’t the same kid who’d acted out in order to get his father’s attention. One glimpse at the confidence he exuded while dancing and that was clear.
But who was he now? How had he changed so much? Why?
All these questions and Rafe still didn’t have any answers. He remembered a scrawny teenager with short brown hair and eyes too big for his face. The old Hop had always dressed with an eye for color but in jeans and T-shirts. He’d never pushed boundaries in fashion, not like he did now.
The limits he’d tested were darker and much more dangerous, designed for one purpose—to get noticed.
Ever since Lockwood had first given Rafe the responsibility of keeping Hop under control, Rafe had been at his wit’s end. Back then, the teenage Hopkins had been struggling with things a younger Rafe couldn’t have understood. But he hadn’t even tried. He’d been too engulfed by the pain of losing his father and the overwhelming responsibilities that came with being the eldest son. He’d failed the first task his mentor had ever given him because it’d been an impossible job. Hop had been a swirling gale of irrepressible energy without direction.
Now, it seemed, he was so much more.
After their earlier encounter, Rafe had followed Hop to the department store. A little digging told Rafe that Hop was definitely on the employee list and had been for five years.
It was another example of how different he was now. Before, Hopkins hadn’t been mature enough to hold a job for one week let alone a whole year.
Rafe tightened his thick scarf against a gust of wind that knocked the breath from his lungs, and blew into his gloved hands. Part of the background of the window display cracked open and Hop stepped through carrying a female mannequin under his arm. A smile stretched his cheeks and the sight of it gave Rafe a flutter.
He looked happy. Relaxed.
Confident.
Rafe stepped farther from the window to where a light pole cast a shadow that would keep him semi-hidden. It was stupid, but he wanted to watch Hop in his element and knew as soon as he made his presence known, that smile would turn into a frown.
Hop wore a pair of dark jeans with an artfully frayed gap slashed across his left thigh to display a tempting glimpse of smooth skin. Across the space two leather straps with silver buckles had been added for decoration. On top, Hop had paired a polka-dot top and a perfectly tailored purple blazer pulled around his waist with an oddly wide teal belt. It was a crazy blend of masculinity and femininity with an originality that was completely genderless.
Behind the thick glass, Hop worked with a concentration Rafe recognized deep in his gut. That was passion, determination, and the willingness to do anything to succeed, even if he had to do it solo.