Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
I find myself standing before an array of drinks. My eyes scan over the sodas before drifting towards the hard liquor. Yeah, that’s more like it. I grab a bottle of Vodka and walk away and as I go to grab a cup, Damian steps into my side. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
I shrug, hating how this bullshit between me and Slade has been affecting my relationship with Damian. After all, I only just started to really like the guy. “How is he?”
Damian sighs and nods toward the backdoor. I glance up and follow his line of sight to find Slade sitting out back alone in a dark corner with a bottle in his hand. “Pretty fucking bad,” he mutters. “Were you ever going to tell me what the fuck is going on between you guys? Because one minute you can’t get enough of each other and the next, he looks as though he could strangle you with his eyes. Did you fuck around on him?”
“What?” I snap, looking up at Damian in horror. How could he think that of me? Surely after everything, he knows me better than that by now. “How could you say that? I’d never fuck around on him.”
Damian shrugs. “Hey, don’t snap at me. It was a serious question. What else am I supposed to think? The guy has gone from head-over-heels to nothing. Something happened and I’m waiting for one of you dicks to come clean about it.”
“It’s not my place to say,” I tell him. “I wish I could as maybe you could help me to make this better, but I can’t. I’m sorry, this is Slade’s thing and he needs to be the one to share it when he’s ready.”
“Fuck, Sky. Screw all your loyalty bullshit. What’s up with my boy? I can’t fucking help him like this. He’s going to get himself in trouble or worse.”
Guilt pours through me though it shouldn’t. I technically haven’t done anything wrong. “I’m sorry, Damian,” I say, glancing up once again at Slade. “I just…I can’t.”
Damian sighs and the way he looks at me makes me feel absolutely pathetic. He shakes his head as though I’m a disappointment for having decent morals and walks away.
Shit. Why the fuck did that suck so bad?
I’m left feeling even shitter about myself and I want to throat punch both of those dickheads for making me feel like this when in reality, I was doing the right thing in protecting Daniella’s secret. They wouldn’t understand unless they’d felt the shame of what being raped does to you, and they sure as hell wouldn’t understand until they’ve felt the fear of never being safe.
I did what I had to do and I refuse to be sorry about it. It’s time for those fuckers to get over it. From now on, I’m done trying to make this right. Slade can come to me when he grows the fuck up and realizes that this is about so much more than just his hurt feelings.
I don’t give a shit that he’s technically Lucien’s son. He already has incredible parents and the fact that he was technically a little sperm in some monster’s ball sack doesn’t change the fact that he’s an amazing guy who was raised to be a strong and caring man with good morals, respect, and an even better heart. He’s nothing like Lucien.
Throwing the cup away, I grab the whole bottle of vodka and make my way outside. This house is pretty small so there’s nowhere to go unless I want to be felt up on the dancefloor and I don’t exactly feel like letting loose right now. Tonight is about drinking as much as I can and forgetting that my world is never going to be a happy place.
As I make my way out back, I pass Robbie McDowell and suddenly, my luck is starting to turn around. “Hey,” I demand, not giving a shit if this has to happen in front of every eye at the party. Robbie turns at my hollering and raises a brow. “Got a smoke?”
He nods and within seconds, he’s handing over the goods while I dig into my bra and pull out some cash. “Always a pleasure,” he tells me.
I roll my eyes and keep walking when I pass a guy trying to light up a cigarette. I pinch the lighter from between his fingers and keep walking. He calls out and after looking back over my shoulder and shooting him a sharp glare, he backs down, holding his hands up in defeat. “It’s all yours, babe.”
I clench my jaw at his casual use of the term ‘babe.’ I’ve always hated when people use that word. Slade would call me that every now and then and despite how I loathe it, I kind of liked the way it sounded on his lips, but from anyone else, it sounds like more of a sexist term to belittle a woman despite knowing it’s just a slip of the tongue, like when guys call friends ‘man’ and ‘bro.’