Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 102(@200wpm)___ 81(@250wpm)___ 68(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 102(@200wpm)___ 81(@250wpm)___ 68(@300wpm)
“Um…Reed?” my mouth goes dry. I immediately wish I’d poured myself something to drink.
Reed, completely oblivious and clearly unable to read a girl’s body language or facial expressions, leans in and places a hand on my knee. “Yeah, baby?”
I cough and clear my throat. “Why do you have another girl’s thong in your couch cushions?”
For a split second, Reed’s face shifts. He recovers quickly, but it was long enough for me to see the guilt in his eyes. He glances back at the panties, then looks at me and shrugs.
“Oh, that? Those are from a girl Brian was smashing the other night when I let him stay here—”
“I’m leaving,” I reply, getting to my feet. For some reason, I expect Reed to follow and try to stop me, but he doesn’t. He actually falls back on the couch and sighs as I tug open the door to outside.
“Ugh, whatever, bitch. You’re so not worth all this.”
“Worth…all what?” It’s a question I know I shouldn’t be asking, but I ask anyway.
Reed waves his hand around the apartment. “This. I could have girls ten times hotter than you over here spreading their legs for me. All I wanted was to pop your cherry, but it’s not worth putting up with your mediocre bullshit. Get the hell out of here!”
It’s a good thing I don’t have any real feelings for this guy, because if I did, what he just said to me would tear me apart. As it is, I feel my whole body start to go hot and my cheeks start to blush with embarrassment. I was about to leave, and now he thinks he can kick me out? Part of me wants to stand here, fold my arms, and not go anywhere just to spite him. But I don’t do that. I dig deep and pull out the best response I can come up with.
“I pity the poor girl who decides to put up with you just to marry you for your money.”
And before he has a chance to respond, I’m out the door and ordering an Uber on my way down the stairs.
I don’t cry on the car ride home. No, Reed isn’t worth my tears. I do think of all the ways I’d like to beat him up if I was a big, tough man, though. The car drops me off at my empty house, and I go inside, change into a pair of sweats and a big comfy sweatshirt, and plop down in front of the television.
I’m there for the next hour or so when I see headlights out front. Assuming it’s my mom and dad coming home, I get up and start to head back to my room. But when I glance back over my shoulder, I see some kind of absurdly fancy black sedan parked in the driveway that definitely doesn’t belong to anyone in the family.
Could it be Reed?
No. That wouldn’t make any sense. After everything he said, why would he be here at my house? And he doesn’t drive that kind of car either. But then who could it be?
But then, the driver’s side door opens, and my question is answered as Reed’s father, Grant, steps out wearing a charcoal-colored suit with a white dress shirt opened at the collar. I’m wet instantly and almost have a heart attack at the same time.
His eyes catch mine through the window. His lips curl into a smile that feels like a warm blanket being draped over my body, and he points to the front door as if to say, “May I come in?”
I nod as if to say, Yes, sir, but in my mind all I’m thinking is, Um, abso-fucking-lutely you can!
2
Nikki
I unlock the door and step back as it opens and Grant Whitney enters my house. It’s been at least a couple of weeks since I last saw him, and it almost doesn’t feel real. Not only is he one of the biggest attorneys in all of Los Angeles, but he’s also devastatingly handsome with a presence that’s almost overwhelming. He’s barely two steps into the living room and it’s already like my entire house belongs to him. But unlike his son, Reed, there’s not an ounce of falseness or arrogance in Grant’s mannerisms. I guess that’s the difference between a self-made man and a boy who’s had his entire life handed to him.
“Are you all right?” he asks, his voice soothing and calm like a warm caramel latte.
“I…” I clear my throat. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
It’s a half-lie; I’m still pretty upset about what happened earlier, but I’m also not heartbroken, so it’s not the end of the world.
“I heard what happened.”
“You-you did?”
Grant nods and gestures to the couch. I sit, and he takes a seat beside me. “Reed’s version at least. But I’d like to hear your side of the story.”