Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 138526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
We start screaming, all three of us, and I start jumping, just because my excitement can’t be expressed by simply standing.
I even hug Robert because I’m too excited to not hug people.
“Let’s get drunk!” Robert cries and I agree loudly.
We head to a nightclub, drinking champagne that I arranged with the car service for this very moment. I figured either way we’d be drinking to drown our sorrows or celebrate.
I pull my bun free, mess up my thick hair, and reapply my matte red lipstick. I get rid of my blazer and pop open the top few buttons of my white shirt.
“Good to go?” I ask nobody in particular.
Both men confirm at the exact same time, “Good to go.”
I take the glass offered and down it. Robert pours me more. Mr. C swigs straight from the bottle.
“WE FUCKING DID IT!” he yells again after opening the window, I’ve never seen him so animated.
I like it.
I sit between them as we drive, singing songs together I’m not sure they know the words to.
I’m relieved when we reach a nightclub that’s busy, almost glad that the meeting took so long and ended so late because, if it hadn’t, we’d be in drunken limbo.
That’s where you get too drunk too early and can’t go anywhere because nowhere is open yet.
We almost fall out of the car and then Mr. C slings his arm around my shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world, pressing the bottle into the chest of the bouncer as we walk in. Robert has connections. Wherever we are now already knew we were coming because we are taken straight to a VIP suite in the corner, complete with tablet to order drinks from the bar.
“This is awesome,” I say, playing on the tablet built into the table center to figure out what cocktail I want. I order my drink and theirs, smiling at them both as they chat excitedly about the company’s future and theirs.
Our drinks are brought over but it’s not long before we’re ordering more.
“Do you dance?” Robert asks me.
I nod. “Hell yeah, I do. Not well, though.”
He holds out his hand and points to the dance floor. “Dance with me.” It’s not a question or a request, it’s an order.
“Only if we all go.” I glance at Mr. C who is already standing. “I guess we’re all going then.”
Buzzed, happy, and hopeful for the future, we all hit the crowded dance floor in our business attire and laugh as we move around each other. I’m spun under arms, hugged into chests. At one point I’m practically tag teamed from both angles but it’s all good fun.
We don’t stop until we’re sweating and we’re so drunk there’s no choice but to go back to the hotel. Such a shame.
The ride back we’re even more obnoxious and loud than we were on the way. It’s so funny, seeing two fully grown men acting like teenage boys. Although Robert is the more sober one out of the three of us, he’s still the louder one.
I manage to get them to shush as we head to our rooms, so we don’t get kicked out. This is a really fancy hotel.
“The party’s not over yet,” Mr. C declares as Robert opens the door and I carry our second bottle of champagne in. They’re both wearing my red lipstick because they’ve both been drinking out of the same bottle as me. Something sober me would never do.
Drunk me is an animal.
Robert connects his phone to a speaker and plays music, I drink more champagne, still dancing drunkenly just because.
“LET’S BOUNCE!” I cry and kick off my shoes before diving onto Mr. C’s bed. I go up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Up and… shit I lose count.
“Fuck yeah, I love bouncing on beds,” Robert declares and joins me, when he goes up, I come down. It’s so funny. I can’t stop laughing.
Mr. C joins us, and I’m surprised the bed doesn’t break with all three of us on it.
Robert tries to jump from the bed to the sofa about four meters away, but he falls halfway, landing facedown on the floor.
I have never laughed so hard in my life. I have tears streaming down my face. I can’t breathe.
I get down off the bed to check on him as Ezra flops back onto it, mumbling about how drunk he is.
I crawl over to Robert and roll him over, wondering if he’s fallen asleep or died. He’s laughing silently when I see his face. I slap his chest for worrying me.
“Asshole,” I mutter, and look at Mr. C’s foot hanging over the end of the bed.
We both hear a soft snore come from him and I laugh into Robert’s shoulder. Pressing my forehead to the fabric of his shirt.