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)
“Sullivan,” she says, her voice breathy.
My head snaps back up, the grip on her wrist tightening. “The fuck did you just say?”
She jerks her wrist out of my hand, nearly slipping on the wet floor before righting herself. “Halston’s here. I forgot she was picking me up.”
I sigh, running a hand through my wet hair to get it out of my face. Allie hurries out the door, leaving me high and dry. And hard. Fuck you, Sully.
* * *
I HURRY DOWN THE STAIRS, wanting to warn Halston before she’s ambushed by the sight of a drunken Sullivan passed out on the couch, but I’m too late. She’s standing in front of the couch, arms crossed, eyebrow arched, looking down at him as he scrambles to sit up. Dare and Lo, thankfully, are nowhere to be seen. They must have left already.
“Halston—” Sullivan starts, but she holds up her hand, cutting him off.
“Not my business.”
I study her, looking for any signs of deception, trying to gauge how she really feels about this. She turns to me, taking in my baggy sweats, damp shirt, and messy ponytail. “Tell me you’re not going like that.”
“I woke up late.” I shrug.
She scrunches her nose. “Well, fix it.” She laughs.
“Halston, can we talk?” Sullivan tries again.
“Nothing to talk about. You had an itch and I wasn’t around to scratch it,” she says, the picture of nonchalance. She turns away, heading for the stairs.
“Nothing happened,” he promises, standing as if he’s going to go after her. But then his blanket falls, revealing the fact he’s not wearing pants.
“Jesus, Sullivan.” I cover my eyes. “I did not need to see that.” He scrambles to cover himself, falling back onto the couch and balling the blanket up on his lap.
“Yeah, sure looks like nothing happened,” Halston challenges, with a pointed look before she gives him her back once more. “Oh, by the way,” she pauses, one hand on the stair rail, “the next time you’re going to lie, make sure the evidence isn’t plastered all over Sierra’s socials.” Sullivan sighs, dejected, raking a hand through his hair.
Once we’re in my room, I shut the door behind her. I can still hear the shower running, and I quickly shut that door, too.
“I found out in the middle of the night,” I say, walking over to sit on the edge of my bed. “I almost kicked his ass, but Jesse told me you knew. I should’ve known he was trying to cover his friend’s ass.”
“He wasn’t lying.” Halston pops a shoulder, unconcerned. “We have an understanding.”
“You’re shitting me. I thought you liked him.”
“I do.”
“Then why…”
“Because we’re in college,” she points out, like it should be obvious. “And he’s Sullivan. He couldn’t be faithful if his life depended on it. His type never is.” She sighs, moving toward my temporary closet, sifting through the few articles of clothing I’ve actually managed to hang. “These boys… Their only mission in life is to collect as many conquests as possible.”
I bob my head in silent agreement, unease rolling through me. “So, you hook up with him knowing he’s hooking up with other girls? Doesn’t it bother you?”
Halston glances at me over her shoulder. “Sometimes.” I think back to last night, and how jealous I was when I thought Sierra had been talking about Jesse, and we’re not even together. We’re nothing. But it doesn’t feel like nothing.
“Do you think friends with benefits actually works?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“For some people, sure.” Halston settles on a white cropped T-shirt, peeling it off the hanger before tossing it onto my lap. I’m not at all surprised she picked the smallest piece of clothing in there. She squats down to riffle through my suitcase. “The key is to have ground rules.”
“Such as?”
“That depends on you and your expectations,” she says, holding up a pair of old, ripped jeans before throwing them to the reject pile to join the other pieces she deems unworthy. “My personal rules are no hooking up with other people on the same day, no cuddling, no sleepovers, no unprotected sex, and most importantly, no lying. And Sullivan,” she stands, throwing a pair of high-waisted jean shorts at me, “is a liar.”
“I’m not wearing these,” I say, bunching the shorts into a ball.
“Yes, you are. We’re getting pedicures, remember?”
“Fine,” I relent, kicking off my sweats, wishing I had a chance to shower after last night’s—ahem—activities. I pull my shorts up quickly. “Hand me that bra,” I say, pointing at the suitcase. Once she hands it to me, I turn away to change. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think Sullivan got very far with Sierra.”
“How would you know?”
I walk back over to my suitcase, plucking a pair of gray socks to go with my boots because I don’t even own a pair of flip-flops. “I overheard some stuff. She was trying to use him to make Jesse jealous.”