Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“I wish.” She sighs. “My parents are forcing me to go to some bullshit vineyard for the week.”
I scrunch my nose. That sounds like my idea of hell. “At least your parents want you around.” I didn’t mean to say that out loud, and the look on Halston’s face is exactly why. I didn’t mean to make her feel guilty.
“Are we hanging out before you go?” I ask quickly in an effort to get the look of pity out of her eyes.
“What time do you work tomorrow?”
“Evening shift.”
“I’ll pick you up around eleven. We’ll get pedis—my treat—and drink champagne.”
“Yay,” I deadpan, waving an invisible pom-pom.
I manage to make it through my shift at Blackbear unscathed. I didn’t think Jesse would pass up an opportunity to harass me, but he never showed. He’s probably moved on to his next willing victim by now.
“Why are you pouting?” Lo asks. I look up to see her watching me, propping a hand on her hip.
“I’m not pouting.”
“You’re scowling.”
“I’m a scowler,” I say, lifting a shoulder. “I’m not exactly Little Miss Sunshine if you haven’t noticed,” I joke, but her pinched lips and narrowed eyes tell me she’s not buying it.
“Where’d you disappear to last night?”
I straighten, clearing my throat. “Halston called. Boy trouble. I went to stay with her.”
“Mhm.”
“You went upstairs. Jesse said you’d be a while.”
“Whatever’s got you upset wouldn’t have anything to do with why Jess has been stomping around, slamming every door in the house, would it?”
I shake my head, not wanting to outright lie.
“You’re a shit liar,” she says. “But I’ll let you keep your secrets for now.”
Once Lo lets me off the hook, the rest of my shift goes quickly. It’s just Grumpy Pete and me closing and naturally, I get full control of the song selection, so the day isn’t all bad. By the time I get home, Dare and Lo are upstairs watching a movie, and Jesse is nowhere to be seen. After a quick shower, I don’t bother putting on more than underwear and an old Metallica shirt that’s five sizes too big. It’s probably older than I am, and it’s faded from black to a dingy gray color, but the material is soft and it’s my favorite thing to wear to sleep. I crawl into bed, too tired to bother with my headphones tonight.
I don’t know what time it is or what wakes me, but it’s still dark when I tiptoe down the stairs to get some water. My bare feet pad across the cold wood floor as I head for the kitchen. Grabbing a black cup with a neon pink heart with the words Bad Intentions through it, I turn for the fridge, using the dispenser to fill it up. Faint laughter hits my ears half a second before the back door to my left slides open, scaring the shit out of me.
Three girls in barely-there bathing suits clumsily barrel inside, dripping wet and drunk, if their incessant giggling and shushing is anything to go by. “I told you they weren’t together,” the one girl I do recognize says, her voice sounding smug. Sierra. I tiptoe backwards into the hall, a sick feeling rolling through me. Are they talking about me?
“How do you know?” another girl asks.
“The fact that he was practically dry humping me in the hot tub was my first clue,” Sierra says dryly.
I’m not with Jesse. The last thing I want is a relationship—with anyone. Why should I care about who he’s hooking up with? I have no claim to him. So why are my eyes burning with unshed tears, and why does my stomach feel like it’s suddenly full of lead? I take a step backwards, not wanting to hear any more, when I bump into something. Or someone. A hand comes around my mouth, muffling my yelp.
“Shh,” Jesse says. I fight against his hold, not wanting his hands anywhere near me, but his arms band around me in a vise grip.
“Doesn’t mean anything,” another voice chimes in, and I stop my struggling, if only to avoid drawing their attention. “He doesn’t exactly strike me as the monogamous type.”
“I don’t really give a shit, to be honest,” the devil in the form of a Victoria’s Secret model says flippantly. “As long as he gives me that big, fat—”
Having heard more than enough, I bite down on Jesse’s fingers, causing him to hiss, but he doesn’t pull away. He pushes me forward, my chest pressed against the wall. I attempt to kick him in the balls, but it’s a fail from this angle, and he simply arches out of the way. “Stop and listen,” he growls into my ear. I blow a piece of hair out of my face.
“Why?” I whisper. Why the hell does he want me to hear this? “I fucking get it, okay?”