Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Shelby waves a hand airily to and fro then flips her long platinum-blonde hair flippantly before lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Blaze told me you haven’t made a pass at her yet, and we all see the way you watch her. We don’t know what you’re waiting for.”
Fucking. Blaze.
“Oh, Blaze told you that, huh?” I hiss, glaring at her. The thing is, she doesn’t look the least bit put out by my mood swing. Or maybe she’s just that dumb. Or maybe she just doesn’t give a crap.
Another hair flip. “Um, yeah. He tells me everything. Cause, hello.” She strikes a pose, inviting me to ogle her by propping her knife-free hand on her hip, sticking out her impressive artificial chest and making a duck face with her cherry-red lips.
“I’m speechless,” I mutter, mostly to myself.
“Why, thank you.” She takes that as a compliment and preens a little. “Listen. Can I give you some advice?’
“As if I could stop you,” I respond dryly without the barest hint of a smile.
Shelby gives a twinkly laugh. “You’re so hilarious.” She begins spreading the diced tomatoes evenly onto the taco dip tray, and continues. “Can you hand me that bag of cheese? Thanks. Anyway, as I was saying—just some friendly advice, since you’re Blaze’s best friend and all—”
“I am?” Since when?
She laughs again like I’m the funniest guy. “Just try smiling this weekend, ‘kay? You look so angry all the time. We don’t want you scaring the poor girl away.”
Here we go again with the we.
“Is that your friendly advice?”
She rolls her eyes. “Well… yeah.”
I suddenly feel really bad for Blaze, because Shelby can be such an airhead sometimes. Don’t get me wrong; most of the time she’s a real sweetheart, but sometimes I worry the elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top floor. But what she said made me think, and I glance back to where Abby stands, hovering on the fringes of the kitchen, looking as uncomfortable as I feel, even surrounded by her friends.
Abby: Guess where I am…
Cecelia: Please tell me you’re in the basement of a fraternity house doing body shots…
Abby: GUH! Seriously. Why would you say that? You just ruined my fun.
Cecelia: Blah blah blah, stop keeping me in suspense.
Abby: We took a road trip to the Dells, and now we’re all holed up in this rental cabin, getting changed into our pajamas, then watching movies.
Cecelia: And might I ask—who is WE?????
Abby: You know. The gang… Weston, Molly, a few guys from the team. Caleb…
Cecelia: I can see you blushing from here.
Abby: Ugh, I am! I can’t help it. I feel like this is my very first crush…
Cecelia: …and what a wonderful feeling that is! Now go dazzle him with your brand of Abby awkward…
CHAPTER 12
ABBY
“Jenna, where are the pajamas I put in here?” As I ask, I continue digging through my suitcase, which I’ve ransacked twice already.
No pajamas.
“Oh. You mean those hideous thermal bottoms and giant man shirt? They’re gone.” She emerges from the bathroom and leans against the doorframe, toothbrush poised at her bottom molars. “No freaking way am I letting you out there in that getup. Not with Caleb here, not when we’re trying to get you laid.”
She watches me and works the toothbrush back and forth.
Brush, brush, brush.
“Oh. My. God. Jenna, why would you do this to me? Why?” I try not to shriek, really I do, but unfortunately for me (and whoever is sleeping in the next room) my voice comes out breathlessly high pitched and scandalized. “This isn’t a beauty pageant. We’re camping.”
“This isn’t camping, you yuppie.” The brat snorts at me, shaking her lavender ponytail. “I’m sure you think you’re perfectly adorable in man jams, but it ain’t happening. The clothes are gone. Poof! I smothered them in hot dog juice and fed them to the raccoons.”
Brush, brush, brush.
I take a deep breath, count to five in my head, and mutter through clenched teeth, “Remind me again why I haven’t tried to asphyxiate you in your sleep yet?
The toothbrush stops moving, and Jenna lets it sit in her mouth while she talks around it. “Why are you fighting me on this? Molly and Cecelia were never half as argumentative when I was helping them.” She disappears for a few seconds to spit in the sink, then returns. “Your problem is those hideous—and I do mean hideous—thermal pants, that for the life of me I can’t fathom why you would bring along… and ends with the most asexual shirt you own. One that even your dad wouldn’t wear.”
I fold my arms across my chest and pout. “It is my dad’s.”
Jenna stops brushing and points the foaming toothbrush in my direction, dripping toothpaste bubbles on the carpet. “Exactly! That’s my point. And how tall is your dad, exactly?”
Tall. My dad is really tall.