Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 66865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“Not much, Lynwood.” Kip steps forward, inching farther into what’s supposed to be a three-foot chasm, chest bumping my back.
I step away.
He follows.
Dammit!
“Who’s your friend?” the guy asks.
“This is Teddy.”
Lynwood smiles. “Like the bear?”
“No, dipshit.” Kip is already irritated, and his friend has only been standing here for about seven seconds. “Like the name.”
Oh lord.
Lynwood ignores Kip, turning to me; giving me all his attention. It’s weird, in a way, his brown eyes shining a little too bright. His smile a little too wide. Wolflike.
I don’t think I trust him.
“Teddy, I’m Steve.”
I shyly brush a lock of hair behind my ear. “Hi.”
“Jesus,” I hear Kip grunt, and I want to elbow him in the abs—then I remember rule seven. I’m not allowed to punch him in the gut. Crap.
I need him to stop acting like a dick.
“You thirsty, Teddy?”
I hand Kip the cup in my hand and return my gaze to Steve. “Sure.”
He hands me one of the two red cups he brought over.
“Thanks.” I go to put it to my smiling mouth. Aww, how thoughtful of him to bring me a drink.
But it’s yanked out of my hand and away from my lips.
“What the hell, Kip?” He is such a savage.
“Give me that.”
He plucks the cup from my grasp, hands it back to Steve, and then looks down his nose at me.
Sniffs indignantly before flaring his nostrils. “Rule number eighty that everyfuckingbody knows: never accept beer from a dude handing it to you at a party. Ever. It could have drugs in it.”
My brows shoot up—I hadn’t thought of that. Then again, Kip has been with me most of the night and I haven’t had to. He’s the best watchdog a girl could have.
Steven’s lip curls up. “What the hell, Carmichael?”
“I’m not saying you drugged her, dipshit—I’m talking generalities.” Kip side-eyes Steven, shooting me a pointed look. “But still, I mean…he could have.”
“You are so unbelievably fucked up, man.” Steve huffs.
“What-the-fuck-ever, dude—she should know better.”
“You’re an asshole.”
The curse words keep coming as they begin to argue, in the middle of the living room, for the entire party to see.
“Piss off, Lynwood.”
This sure escalated quickly.
“You think you’re tough shit because you’re ten feet tall, but you ain’t shit.”
Kip’s nostrils flare. “How about you walk away—she’s too good for you anyway.”
“Fuckin’ A, Carmichael. I wasn’t even interested in her to begin with. Look at her, Jesus—she looks like a kindergarten teacher.”
Wait—what does that mean? Did he just imply that I was homely? My mouth drops open—I’ve never been insulted to my face before.
“What did you just say?” Kip moves forward, chest practically bumping Lynwood’s if not for their drastic height difference. “How about you watch your fucking mouth.”
“I’ll say whatever the hell I want, you giant freak.”
“Get the fuck out of my face,” Kip thunders.
“Not a problem, asshole.”
Kip rolls his eyes, tired of the conversation, appearing so bored I expect him to check his fingernails. “You called me an asshole already, you asshole.”
Steve storms off, weaving his way back through the crowd, and I watch his brown head bobbing above the throng until it disappears from sight.
“What. Just. Happened?”
“Not worth your time. He’s an idiot.”
Obviously.
I clear my throat, trying to appear unruffled and unaffected, even though Steve Lynwood’s drunk, biting words will haunt me the remainder of the evening: I wasn’t even interested in her to begin with. Look at her, Jesus.
What the hell did he mean by that?
“Okay, well he’s the third idiot you’ve scared away tonight.”
“Uh, yeah, because they’re all fucking idiots.”
“I’m sure not all of them are…”
“Nope. They are.”
“Including you?”
“Especially me.” Kip lifts the red cup in his hands, putting it to his lips. I watch his throat constrict as he swallows then lowers it, crushing the entire thing in his giant claw. “This party blows, and so do these guys.”
I rub my chin, tapping it. “There’s a blowjob joke in there somewhere.”
“Please don’t make it—the last thing we need is me thinking about you giving blowjobs.”
“If you knew this party was going to blow then why are we here?”
“We’re here because you need practice.”
“Or, I can just find a nice guy in one of my labs, because this…apparently this is not my scene.”
“Or you broaden your dating pool by swimming outside the dork pond.”
“Stereotype much?”
“Yes. Don’t you?”
I scoff. “Pfft, no.”
“Liar—you stereotyped me.”
“Well…how could I not? Look at you—you look like Bigfoot’s cousin.”
“Bigfoot isn’t a real person, Theodora.”
“But if he was—”
“He’s not.”
“For the sake of argument—”
“He’s not though, so we can’t argue about it.”
“Kipling, I swear on all that is holy—”
This agreement is never going to work, and why on earth I thought it would is completely lost on me.
I open my mouth and tell him, “You’re fired.”
“What?”
“This isn’t going to work. You’re too confrontational, and you’re not going to like anyone who talks to me—plus none of these guys are my type. So you’re fired.”