Total pages in book: 296
Estimated words: 284055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1420(@200wpm)___ 1136(@250wpm)___ 947(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 284055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1420(@200wpm)___ 1136(@250wpm)___ 947(@300wpm)
“I would never say that,” she whisper-shouts in a very serious drunken tone, forcing a laugh out of me. “Don’t worry, Alex. River’s totally normal and is a goddess in and out of the sheets.” She winks at him, and she doesn’t know how to wink with alcohol in her system, so she’s basically just blinking harshly at him like a witch trying to put a spell on someone.
“Okay, time to go.” I grab Natalie’s other hand and start to follow Adam.
“Bye, River!” Alex calls out, grabbing my attention.
I blush for some unknown reason and wave back. “See ya!”
The first five days in Key West have certainly been interesting. After meeting Alex and Dylan on Monday, we haven’t seen much of them since then. We’ve run into them during breakfast, but then Natalie and I have kept busy shopping and exploring the streets as well as tanning and drinking by the pool. I’m sure they’ve been busy themselves, but Alex has still been on my mind for some reason.
I can’t deny that he’s good looking, and his accent definitely alerts my senses, but there’s something else I can’t quite put my finger on. However, knowing my history with men, it’s probably not a good thing. Even if he is single, we’re from two different worlds. What would be the point of getting involved with someone who lives hundreds of miles away?
The fact that I’m even thinking about this makes me want to slap myself.
It’s gotta be from all the sun, I tell myself. Or the abundance of alcohol.
Either way, I’m quick to push those types of thoughts from my head. There’s no time for men in my life right now, especially after Asshole wasted half a year of it.
“Tonight, we’re going to a pub on Duval Street!” Natalie tells me as we sit for lunch.
“I think I need to detox for a night,” I whimper, waking up with a headache for the fourth morning in a row.
“No, tonight’s different!” she insists, and I resist rolling my eyes because she says that every time. “It’s ladies’ night, which means we drink for dirt cheap! Plus, there’s a local live band, and I really, really want to hear them play. Please!” she begs pathetically, yet it works.
“Being the third wheel was cute the first time, but now I’m just looking pathetic as fuck,” I tell her, groaning at the thought. I stab a piece of chicken with my fork and stuff it into my mouth. Considering the drinks have been nonstop, I need all the food I can get to absorb the alcohol.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you come to have fun and drink, or did you come to wallow like an old lady?” she scolds in a motherly tone. When she catches me roll my eyes that time, she continues. “That’s what I thought. You can be responsible and shit when we get back home. Until then, we live it up!” She raises both arms above her head like we’re on a roller coaster.
“Okay, I’ll go, just put your damn arms back down.” I chuckle around my forkful of food.
“Invite Alex and Dylan,” she tells me again, as she has for the last three nights. I’ve already told her my concerns and reasons for not wanting to get too close, but she waves it off and reminds me I’m here to have fun.
I head back to my room and get ready for the night. Natalie ordered me to wear my best dress, which isn’t hard considering I only own one. Working nonstop doesn’t give me a lot of time for going out or dancing, but this little black number has paid for itself in drinks time and time again.
Once I’ve showered and finished my hair and makeup, I slip it on and pull out my heels. I’m not sure exactly what kind of bar this is, but if there’s dancing and a band, I can only assume I’ll need to dress up.
I’m used to throwing my blonde hair up into a ponytail or bun while working, but tonight, I decide to leave it down and curl it in loose waves. I take a look in the mirror and barely recognize myself but smile at the reflection anyway.
A knock on the door grabs my attention, and as I walk toward it, I grab my purse and phone off the table before opening it.
“Girl!” Natalie squeals, barging her way in. “Hot damn.”
She gives me a once-over, and I do the same to her. She’s wearing an emerald cocktail dress that complements her fiery hair and pale complexion. She looks damn good, but Natalie always does. Walking over to the full-length mirror attached to the closet door, she reaches into her purse and digs out her lipstick.
“This color would look amazing on you. Come here,” she orders, opening the lid and twisting the bottom till a bright red color appears.