Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“Okay,” I laugh. “I’m coming. But only with sympathy.”
“I’ll take it,” she says. “Get your butt over here.”
I hang up the phone, still chuckling at the dude who knew what a Microraptor is. Like he tried to cuss out an arrogant jock by nerding so hard, no one knew what he was talking about. Men! Or should I say, boys!
I do what Imani suggested and throw on some baggy jeans and a cornflower blue sweater. I powder my face, stroke on some mascara and a little lip gloss, grab my phone, and I’m done.
Dad is reading on the sofa, and I stare at his lonely figure, wishing he’d find someone who could keep him company so leaving him alone would feel less shitty. “I’m going out,” I say. “Imani needs rescuing from bro-conversation.”
He lowers his glasses to peer at me. “You look nice. Someone special going to be there?”
“Probably not,” I say, although his question gets me wondering. Maybe I should have asked if the Draytons were there. I didn’t hear familiar voices, but that doesn’t mean they’re not lurking in the background. If I asked, I would have had to come up with an explanation for Imani, and I’m not in the mood to embarrass myself.
The drive to Malik’s only takes five minutes, and I arrive at the same time as Freya. She looks cute in a red knit dress and knee-high boots and clutches a bag of snacks she’s picked up on the way.
“How many snacks do they need?” I ask, scanning her haul. She has chips, dip, bars of chocolate, and bags of sweets, like me.
“I get the feeling there are a lot of people in there,” she says, staring up at the apartment, emitting louder music than I expected.
“Sounds like they’ve turned up the volume, too.”
“Mmmm.”
Freya’s not the party type. She’s bookish and crafty and spends most evenings reading wolf smut and sewing cute new outfits. I wonder how much Imani had to beg her to leave the comfort of her dorm.
“Let’s make a deal. If it’s too rowdy, we have a drink, eat some of this healthy food, and sneak out in an hour.”
She holds out her hand, grabs mine, and pumps it enthusiastically. “DEAL. DOUBLE DEAL. DOUBLE DEAL WITH A CHERRY ON TOP!”
“Alrighty then.” I laugh.
I’m the one to press the buzzer, and somehow, it’s heard from inside, and the lock releases.
We climb the stairs, finding the door to the apartment wide open. Malik shares with a couple of other hockey players, and before I’m three feet inside, I’m confronted by more. Imani appears from the lounge and pulls me and Freya into a single, grateful hug.
“I’m so glad you’re here.” She grabs the bags and whisks them into the kitchen in a whirlwind of curly hair and floaty satin top. I’m dressed to chill out rather than party, but whatever.
“Here.” She shoves a red plastic cup into my hand, and I bring it to my nose to identify what I’m drinking. It smells like some kind of fruit punch, but with something alcoholic lacing it.
I take a tentative sip and am pleased to discover it’s nice. “So, this is bigger and livelier than I was expecting,” I say.
“Yeah.” Freya glances around with fear-wide eyes. “The testosterone to estrogen ratio in this place is really off.”
“It’s a sausage fest,” Imani moans. “And all these guys are off limits.”
“Malik torturing you again?” I smile.
“Yep. I don’t know what a girl has to do to find some allowable cock, but it’s better now you guys are here.”
“Where are the others?”
“Katerina’s in one of the bedrooms playing some kind of retro computer game, and Vi’s in one of the other bedrooms having a row with Jeff.”
“Oh, shit,” Freya says. “I thought they fixed things.”
“They’re in a slump that I don’t think they’re getting out of.”
We all grimace because we’ve been predicting Vi would get sick of Jeff’s flirtations with other girls. He pretends he’s everyone’s bestie, but really, he’s a creep just waiting to have his name permanently engraved on the shitlist!
“Right, so where are we going to go?”
“Den.” Imani leads the way, weaving through groups of people gathered in the hallway. The apartment smells like beer, sweat, and something like burned tires, and I’m starting to wonder if our “one-hour plan” might be the best option after all.
Imani pushes open a door, revealing a dimly lit room with a giant sectional couch and a big-screen TV. The vibe is quieter and calmer—exactly what I need.
Before we settle in, Jeff storms past and slams the door on his way out. We exchange looks, and Freya screws up her face. “I’m going to go check on Vi. You know what she’s like when she’s pissed. Probably best we don’t all go.”
I’m grateful Freya wants to take on the task. When she’s wound up, Vi can be a landscape of sharp rocks and lava pools.