Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 149982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 750(@200wpm)___ 600(@250wpm)___ 500(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 750(@200wpm)___ 600(@250wpm)___ 500(@300wpm)
Charlie smiles, but it’s a bitter one. “I’m an open book.”
“Then tell me something honest about you and your brothers. Something you wouldn’t care if the world knew.”
Charlie looks from me to Oscar and then back to me. “Ever since Eliot and Tom moved in with me and Beckett, I’ve been cleaning up their messes. If I’m going to be their janitor, they better know how dumb I think the shit they get themselves into is.” He pulls out a cigarette and types on his phone. “So fuck no, I’m not helping them without giving them a hard time.”
Oscar cuts in, focus drilled to Charlie’s cell. “What’s the plan?”
Charlie clicks his phone and jumps off the bar. “It’s the best plan I have, but also my last option.” He lets out an annoyed breath. “I know this girl who’s a big fan of The Carraways. She’s also a drummer. She’ll fill in for the night, no problem.” He turns to Oscar. “Just sent you her info. You’ve already done a background check on her, but you’ll need to do it again. I haven’t spoken to her in like three years.”
I’m confused, so I prod. “If you knew someone who could fill in so easily, why is she your last choice?”
“Because I don’t like calling in favors with girls I’ve fucked.” He sticks the cigarette between his lips and mumbles out. “It’s uncouth.” He lights the cigarette and walks towards the stage, probably to let his brother know the crisis has been averted.
Oscar hangs back, simultaneously texting and whispering into his mic. Can’t believe he named The Carraways. Bodyguards threw out suggestions for Tom’s band, and Tom ended up picking Oscar’s. It’s obvious that the bodyguards care about the famous families, but it’s just as clear to me that the families care and appreciate them too.
I stay behind with Oscar and take a few more long shots of Charlie near the stage. Doing my best to resist turning the camera on Oscar and snapping a couple photos of him.
He’s been in background shots before, but I’d love to see how he’d look filling the frame right now.
Gorgeous, I’m sure.
Because of course he’s gorgeous. Magazines have packed their columns with pics of the now infamous Security Force Omega bodyguards, and those spreads detail how Oscar Oliveira is genetically blessed. They also say that about Quinn, his brother—but I’m not interested in Quinn like that.
Like what, dude?
I fiddle with my camera’s aperture, and I look up and zone in on Oscar’s nose ring, just a silver hoop. It’s hot.
Because of course, nose rings are hot. On anyone. Girls. Guys. People. It doesn’t mean I’m not straight. Right?
Like he can feel the heat of my stare, Oscar glances up at me.
I don’t look away. “The nose ring was a dare?”
He cocks his head with a look. “You were there for the dare.”
I was. Shit.
I was literally at the bachelor party where Oscar was dared. Though, I was invited to go back to the house in Key West, I didn’t take the offer and see him get pierced. I had an early call time for work, but the whole night in bed I wished I was there.
I’m usually better with facts, and I can’t help but laugh at myself, my smile widening. “I’m an idiot, sorry.”
“You’re not an idiot,” Oscar says in a way that warms my entire body. “But you do ask too many questions.”
I smile more. “You want me to stop?” I sound like I’m flirting. Because I’m flirty by nature. Fuck, I just want to flirt with this guy. The one with an unshaven jaw, eyes that grin as much as his lips, and curly brown hair that’s perfectly messy—the guy that keeps pushing me away.
For good reasons.
He exhales and mutters something like, “Don’t ask me that.” He scratches the back of his head, then tells me, “You can shoot your shot, Highland. Dunk your questions.”
“What if I air-ball?” I quip.
“Dunk,” he emphasizes.
I like how Oscar always brings me up, even when we’re joking around. “Okay, here it is. Why are you still wearing the nose piercing if it was just a dare?”
He could’ve taken it out.
“Because I look hot,” he grins.
My neck heats. It was like Oscar took a personal trip inside my head and captured that answer.
He slides the phone in his pocket. “You have anything pierced?”
“No, but I’ve always wanted a dydoe piercing.”
Oscar’s eyes go wide.
I laugh. “That was a joke, dude.”
“Let me resuscitate myself for a second.” He has a hand on his chest, the other is digging in his pocket. “I had no clue you’re an expert on penis piercings.” He pulls out a granola bar and rips the wrapper.
My smile hurts. “Not an expert, but I watched a shit ton of porn when I was sixteen—”
“Finally, something in common,” Oscar banters. “I was getting a little worried there.”