Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“Shut up. You’re gorgeous.”
“And so are you.” I nudge her playfully with my elbow.
“I don’t want to talk bad about your boyfriend, but…”
“But what?”
“He’s, like, really careless with you.”
I furrow my brow.
“I just think you deserve better. That’s all I’m going to say.” She raises both hands in the air before pretending to zip her mouth shut. “Consider my lips sealed from any more commentary for the rest of the night.”
I’m at a loss for what to say—mostly because I feel a burning embarrassment at the thought of being a girl who has to be told she deserves better—but an interruption by one of our fellow cheerleaders shuts down the conversation entirely before I have to say anything anyway.
“Ladies, it’s time to dance!” Tonya exclaims, grabbing us both by the wrists.
On a giggle, Kayla goes along willingly, but I find myself staying rooted to my spot. “You guys go ahead. I’m going to run to the bathroom. I’ll catch up with you soon.”
“Scottie, your cute ass better make its way on the dance floor soon, or else I will come find you!” Tonya calls toward me, and I just laugh, holding up both hands.
“Be there soon. Promise.”
Once the two of them get lost in the sea of writhing bodies, I lean my back against the wall and let out a deep exhale. Normally, I’d be one of the first people on the dance floor, but tonight, I don’t know… I’m just not feeling it.
Surely it’s just been a long week with lots of adjusting. Between practice and classes and Dane being a bit of a dick lately and simply trying to figure out this whole college thing, my anxiety is at an all-time high. It doesn’t help that the Delta Omega house is filled with more people than the whole of Ivy Prep—which was K-12—and my nervous system is telling me I need to go back to my dorm, put on some pajamas, and binge-watch One Tree Hill.
Music pounds through the speakers that sit on either side of a local DJ who is currently doing a mashup of “Party Rock Anthem” and a song I’ve heard a million times in stadiums.
The one that goes whoa oh oh oh-oh.
When the beat drops and the lyrics Shots! Shots! Shots! echo inside the room, I don’t miss Dane in the corner doing exactly that. One, two, three, he downs the small glasses of amber liquid in quick succession and pounds his fists against his chest like he’s Tarzan.
Good grief. My annoyance makes a pit form in my stomach, but the small crowd of people around him is verbally celebrating his dumbassery with chants and fist pumps. Nadine claps and cheers so hard, I fear her tits might make a bid to escape her crop top like cats coming through a newly opened door.
Nadine Jones, put simply, doesn’t like me. Sure, she’s flirtatious with everyone, but I’d have to have been born yesterday not to understand Nadine’s underhanded comments and blatant seduction of my boyfriend stem from our current situation on the cheerleading squad—I’m the only freshman with a starting flyer spot—exactly what Nadine was gunning for. So, unless something happens to me or one of the other flyers, she’s stuck at alternate.
Cheerleading can be cutthroat, so this isn’t something I haven’t experienced before. It just sucks that it’s another thing I have to deal with while I’m trying to adjust to college life.
And truthfully, I’m not good at the whole drama thing. I’m a people pleaser to my core. A lover, not a fighter, and the type of person who clams up in any type of confrontational situation. It’s like my brain misplaces all its words for a few days and then finds them again when I’m revisiting that confrontation in my mind.
I’m the queen of “I wish I would’ve said that,” just like Meg Ryan in You’ve Got Mail.
Dane appears to be pouring himself another round of shots, and I can no longer witness the drunken clown show. I pull my phone out of my jeans pocket to check the time—12:30 a.m.
Still no sign of Finn Hayes.
Yeah, I don’t think he’s coming. And I think it’s time to go home.
On a sigh, I start to head for the mudroom of Delta Omega’s massive three-story brownstone to grab my purse, but before I can round the corner into the hallway, someone shouting, “Ace Kelly!” fills my ears.
I spin on my heel, my eyes going straight for the front door.
Ace Kelly and a super-pretty blond girl who’s in my calculus class named Julia Brooks are there, and someone else is right behind them.
Dark hair. Warm brown eyes. With my contacts in tonight, I can see both just fine.
Finn Hayes. Here. In the flesh. And looking as hot as ever.
Did he come here because I invited him? Or did Ace drag him here against his will?