Torn Apart
Copyright © 2020 K Webster
Copyright © 2020 Nikki Ash
Cover Design: All by Design
Photo: Adobe Stock
Editor: Emily A. Lawrence
Formatting: Champagne Book Design
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Title Page
Copyright
About This Book
Playlist
Epigraph
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Nikki Ash’s Acknowledgements
K Webster’s Acknowledgments
About Nikki Ash
About K Webster
From USA Today bestselling author K Webster and Nikki Ash comes an angsty, new adult, reverse harem romance!
I’ve spent the past three years in college terrorizing the dean, also known as my father.
I’m everything he hates.
Troublemaker.
Slacker.
Gay.
But I’m only getting started.
I’m about to make Dad really proud with my newest life choices…
I fall for my best friend, Mia, who’s a freaking chick.
I’m dying to make out with my enemy, dude bro Brayden.
And best of all, I want to bone my new roomie, Drew, who happens to also be the school’s new hockey coach.
Senior year’s great.
I’m still the world’s worst human.
I’ve made all the wrong decisions, and when Dad gets wind of my newest mess, he might actually disown me this time.
But I can’t stop.
I don’t want to stop.
In typical Ashton Carter fashion, I wreck my life in the worst possible way.
It isn’t until it’s all torn apart, I realize I have a problem.
Me.
Authors’ note: Torn Apart is a full-length mature, new adult, why choose romance between friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, with a bit of taboo thrown in. It’s the first book in the Torn and Bound duet and ends with a cliffhanger.
Apple Music
Spotify
Uninvited-Alanis Morissette
Come As You Are-Nirvana
A Long December-Counting Crows
She’s So High-Tal Bachman
Tears In Heaven-Eric Clapton
Use Somebody-Kings of Leon
Bad at Love-Halsey
Team-Lorde
Lie-NF
Secret Love Song-Little Mix
Close to Me-Ellie Goulding
ME!-Taylor Swift
Addicted-Saving Abel
Untouchable-Jana Kramer
Give Up On Us-Harry Hudson
Here With Me-Marshmello
The Bones-Maren Morris
She Will Be Loved-Maroon 5
Broken-Lifehouse
Just the Way You Are-Bruno Mars
Labels are for filing. Labels are for clothing. Labels are not for people. —Martina Navratilova
Ashton
“I can’t believe you’re making me play this.”
Her cackle makes me smirk, even if she’s forcing me to play the game with the worst graphics in history. Minecraft is the babysitter for grade school kids who are all jacked up on Mountain Dew when mommies and daddies around the world need a break.
It’s not for people like us.
Real gamers.
“I’m going to build a cute pen here to house my sheep,” she tells me. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll make you one too.”
“I don’t want sheep.”
“Pigs?”
“I could lock you in my pen.”
“You sayin’ I’m a pig?”
We tear our attention from the train wreck graphics to look at each other. Mia’s dark, sculpted eyebrow is popped up, trying and failing to give me hella attitude. She’s anything but a pig. Guys practically trip all over their damn feet when she’s around.
Straight guys.
I’m a little fucking crooked.
“Did you see the way you annihilated that pizza, MiMi?”
She groans, jerking her dark brown eyes back to the screen. “Pineapple is my weakness.”
“Oink, oink,” I tease.
A loud, unladylike snort escapes her, sending us both into a fit of laughter. For the fun of it, I start wrecking her dumbass pig pen because it’s in the spot where I’m going to build a pool. She screeches, all kinds of pissed at me, and starts kicking me.
“What the fuck?” I groan, dodging her small but deadly socked feet. “Keep those weapons on your side of the couch, dickhead.”
“You owe me a new pen!”
“Stay here with me tonight and I’ll let you build ten pens.”
She grows silent, darting her eyes over to me. “I already promised Sasha I’d go.”
“I’m sure there are fifteen other girls just waiting to do Sasha’s bidding. You don’t even like them,” I grumble.
“I do too,” she argues. “Sasha is in my Humanities class. I know you think she’s a snob, but I like her. She’s been inviting me to a lot of stuff lately. She’s just trying to be nice.”
But we both know that’s not true.
Sasha is the president for Delta Delta Delta. A gorgeous senior with a trust fund. The girl’s family runs in the same circles as mine. Where our dads may associate, Sasha and I do not.
I’m not cool enough for her.
Which means Mia’s not either.
But pledges are pledges, I guess, and Sasha is on a hunt for them.
We’re too normal, Mia and me. Or unrefined. Maybe even a bit rebellious. We’re certainly not the types who fit perfectly into a mold. It’s what brought Mia and me together in the first place this past summer. She’s my best friend, albeit by accident, but still my best friend.
“You’re mad,” Mia says, frowning. “Why are you mad?”
“I’m not mad.” I’m so mad. Mad that she can’t let this whole “I want to fit in” bullshit go. Of course she’ll never admit that’s why she’s doing it. Her excuse is that she wants to make friends.
She has a friend.
Me.
The best one.
The only one.
I’m not a possessive bestie or anything.
“You’re pouting,” she says, her lips quirking up on one side. “For someone who claims to never pout, you sure do it a lot.”
“I do not.”
“Ask your dad. He’ll agree with me.”
“That’s unfair. My dad loves you more than me. We’re not asking him.”
“Because it’s true,” she sings and then laughs. “Seriously. It’s just a club. And if you weren’t such an antisocial asshole, you could go with us. Sasha likes you.”
Sasha tolerates me because my dad is the dean.
“Hmph.”
“Come on,” she chirps. “Enough pouting. Let’s go next door and
