(Lovely Vicious #1) - Love Me Never - Sara Wolf.pdf

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Don’t
love
your
enemy.
Declare
war
on
him.
Seventeen-year-old Isis Blake hasn’t fallen in love in three years, nine
weeks, and five days, and after what happened last time, she intends to
keep it that way. Since then she’s lost eighty-five pounds, gotten four
streaks of purple in her hair, and moved to Buttcrack-of-Nowhere,
Ohio, to help her mom escape a bad relationship.
All the girls in her new school want one thing—Jack Hunter, the Ice
Prince of East Summit High. Hot as an Armani ad, smart enough to get
into Yale, and colder than the Arctic, Jack Hunter's never gone out with
anyone. Sure, people have seen him downtown with beautiful women,
but he's never given high school girls the time of day. Until Isis
punches
him
in
the
face.
Jack’s
The
The
The
met
his
match.
Suddenly
everything
is
a
game.
goal:
Make
the
game
board:
reward:
Something
other
East
neither
beg
for
mercy.
Summit
High.
of
them
expected.
Love Me Never
Sara Wolf
Chapter One
3 years, 9 weeks, 5 days
WHEN I WAS SIX, Dad told me something really true: everyone has a
to-do list.
It took me another eleven years to actually get around to making one,
but thanks to a certain asshole in my life, it's finis hed:
1. Don t talk about love.
2. Don t think about love.
3. Thinking and talking about love leads to Love, which is the enemy.
Do not consort with the enemy. Even if those hot-ass actors in the
movies make it look cuddly and nice and tempting, don t fall for it. It's
the biggest bad in the world, the worst villain ever created by
hormone-pumped pubescent morons. It's the Joker, Lex Luthor, that
one overweight guy who's always messing with the Scooby-Doo gang.
It's
the final boss in the massive joke of a video game you call your life.
Everyone at Avery Brighton's party right now has their own to-do list,
and most of them look identical to the following:
1. Get drunk.
2. Get more drunk.
3. Try not to vomit on anyone cute.
4. Try to score with the cute person you tried your best not to vomit on.
It's a foolproof list that's easy for even idiots to follow. It ensures you're
drunk enough to think everyone is cute, so that you don't throw up on
anyone,
and so you try to score with
everyone.
It's basically a how-to
for people who watch too much TV and think having fun is getting
blind drunk and making out with someone they don't remember. It
makes everyone here intolerable. Especially the boys. One of them
slings his arm around my shoulders, red in the face and murmuring
suggestively about going somewhere quieter.
He has no idea who I am. He has no idea what I've been through.
He's an idiot. But then again, most people are.
I wrinkle my lip and push him off before I hurry into the kitchen.
People are too busy boozing up here to bother hitting on girls. Not that
I get hit on a lot. Getting hit on is still a new thing, a weird thing,
because boys don't generally hit on fat girls and that's what I used to be.
The fat girl.
I pull my Florence and the Machine T-shirt lower to make sure it covers
everything. Flaunting your stretch marks to the entire "cool" populace
of East Summit High probably isn't the best way to make influential
friends. Or friends, period. I'd settle for either. Hell, I'd settle for an
enemy at this rate. Without an anchor, the sea of high school is the
shittiest ride in the world.
"Isis!" A drunk girl sloshes up to me, black hair plastered to her face
with sweat. "Hiiiii! How are . . . What . . . You're doing in here?"
"Uh, yes?" I try. She giggles.
"I'm Kayla. We met in history of the . . . planet."
"World history," I offer.
"Yeah!" She claps and points at me. "Wow. You are
really
s mart."

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