Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
She spins the glass of scotch in her hand and brings it to her lips. "You think that’s a good idea?" She looks at me, waiting for my answer as she finishes the drink.
"Probably not." I shake my head. "But the universe brought us together again."
"I don’t think we can blame the universe for this," she quips. "It was the wedding invitation that did it."
"Whatever it was," I say. "I’m not ready to say goodbye just yet." If she says no, I’m going to walk out and tell the driver to leave. I put my hands in my pockets instead of reaching out and dragging her out of here. "So what do you say?"
"Fine," she agrees. "I have to get my shoes." She points down to her bare feet. Her toenails are painted cherry red.
"I have to get my jacket and talk to my sisters. I’ll meet you there." I point at the door that Shelby went into.
"Okay," she says and walks away from me. I take a second to watch her walk back to the table.
I turn and walk around the bar, grabbing a bottle of scotch and two glasses. "Put it on my tab," I tell the bartender, who laughs as he wipes down the bar and picks up the two empty glasses we left. I look around, spotting Presley talking to someone, and when she looks over at me carrying the bottle, she holds up her finger to the girl. It takes her a second before she comes over to me.
"What the hell are you doing?" she asks, pointing at the bottle and two glasses.
"My car is here, and I’m going to take off," I explain, and she cocks her hip while folding her arms over her chest.
"You think you are going to go get drunk in the car?" she asks. "How old are you, eighteen?"
"I’m actually older than you and"—I look down and then up—"I’m going to take off."
"Alone?" she asks, tapping her foot, and I just glare at her. "Oh my God, are you leaving with Harlow?"
"Mind your business," I advise. "And focus on the fact that you and Bennett have been playing cat and mouse." I point at her, and she shrieks out. "Have a good night."
"Asshole," she hisses, and then I walk away laughing, going to the spot where I told Harlow to meet me. I stand here looking around the room and spot her at the table with Rachel.
"Fuck, she’s beautiful," I say to myself. "Don’t fuck it up!” my head shouts back.
Chapter 10
Harlow
I walk over to the table. My head is screaming at me that this is a bad idea. Sitting on the chair, I slip my feet back in my heels, and bend to tie the strap around my ankle. "Hey," Rachel says, sitting down in the empty chair beside me. She has sweat on the corner of her forehead, and she grabs a glass of water and downs it. Her chest is heaving from dancing so much. "God, that was fun," she says breathlessly.
"I’m not going to lie." I grab the other shoe and start putting it on. "I thought you were going to go toe to toe with the Worm." She throws her head back and laughs. I sit up, grabbing my purse.
"Are you leaving?" she asks with her eyebrows pushed together. I try to put on my poker face, but if anyone else knows me besides Travis, it’s Rachel.
"I’m going to get out of here," I share, avoiding her eyes while I look up at the room and see that Travis is waiting beside the door, where he told me to meet him. His eyes find mine, and he motions with his head that he’s heading out. He turns and walks out of the room.
"Are you sure about this?" Rachel asks, and I turn to her and see her looking at me. I stare at her, turn back to look at our friends on the dance floor, and then back again to the doorway that is now empty.
"Nope." I shake my head. "Not even a little bit," I lie to her. "This whole day, I haven’t been sure about anything."
"I mean, weddings are all about regrets, right?" She laughs. "How many people do things at weddings that they wouldn’t do anywhere else? Like, sex in the coatroom. Or sex in the bathroom."
"Or sex with the best man," I add in. "Or during a drunk speech."
"Yes." She points at me. "And how many people can say they banged the groom on his wedding day and wasn’t the bride?"
I gasp. "I’m not banging anyone," I refute, and even my head yells liar.
"Oh, please." She rolls her eyes. "You guys are like two magnets." One hand is in a fist while the other hand slaps it.
"We’re friends." I look back at the table, grabbing a glass of water. "I mean, we were friends," I add in. "He was my best friend."