Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 66865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“At least you’re honest.”
“It’s my only virtue,” I admit, setting down the red cup I was handed on my way into the house tonight.
If I’m going to be playing matchmaker—correction: if I’m going to be her hairy godmother—I’ll need to face this whole thing sober.
If you thought the idiots who lived and partied here were annoying sober, imagine how annoying they are when they’re drunk.
Though they’d be easier to tolerate if I got piss-ass drunk along with them.
Half the time, I want to plant my fist right into the faces of a majority of these dickless morons, so I need all the sobriety and inhibition I can manage.
I can’t believe I’m trying to set Teddy up with one of these douchebags; it’s such a shitty thing for me to do, knowing what I know about them. Take Ben Salter, for example—the creep is almost flunking half his classes, only able to maintain his enrollment status by sleeping with any and every TA who will fuck him.
Male or female.
And Derek Lawson? Last year he was on meds for the various STDs he claims originated from public toilet seats. Right. Sure.
Another two are spoiled, pompous, trust fund babies.
Granted, technically, I’m one too, but I don’t go parading my parents’ money around, flaunting it like a little asshole. My parents might be loaded, but I’m not a completely classless fuck.
Only some of the time.
“What do you think of my outfit?” Teddy asks from below.
“It’s good.”
“Just good? I had to borrow this shirt and these boots from my friend Tessa—I don’t have anything that shows skin.”
“Yeah, it’ll do.”
“Wow, okay—thanks for the vote of confidence. I thought I looked nice.”
“You do. Relax.”
“What the hell, Kip? You know I’m not good at this, and you said you’d tell me if my outfit was shitty.”
“It’s not shitty—you look cute.”
Her hands are on her hips now as she faces me, red-faced and disgruntled, the lines between her brows deep. “Whatever. Can we just get this over with so I can go home?”
“Don’t be a quitter, Teddy.”
“You know what? I put in a lot of effort tonight and you… That hurt my feelings.”
“What did?”
“God, why are you so clueless?” She throws her arms up, defeated. “When I asked how I looked, you said ‘It’ll do.’ That was so freaking mean.”
“Hey, don’t get upset. I can barely see you down there, shorty. Is that a dress or a shirt? I can’t see the bottom.”
“Shut up.” She relents, giving in to a laugh.
“Seriously, Teddy—you do look really cute. Don’t listen to me. I’m an asshole, remember?”
“Yes, you are.”
“You’re not supposed to agree with me.”
“Agreeing with you isn’t one of the rules.”
“Rule Eleventy…”
***
TEDDY
“You’re hovering.” He has been on my ass since I got here, grunting and snorting throughout every conversation I’ve tried to have.
“No I’m not.”
“Oh my god, Kip, yes you are. Who is going to talk to me when you’re shadowing me like a lurker—it’s weird. We said three feet, but could you please go away!”
He hasn’t left my side all night, and he’s definitely come closer than the mandated agreed upon footage. I can literally feel the heat from his body on my back.
“You don’t have to get all pissy about it. I’m trying to help.”
“How is tailing me going to help? You’re scaring people away—and not just the girls. No one wants to talk to me.”
“Shut up, I am not scaring anyone away—Tyler Wheatly had no problem coming over.”
I huff, crossing my arms. “To talk to you. You’re huge—no one even notices I’m down here.”
“I notice you’re down there.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you don’t count.”
I catch his long sigh. “I can see down your shirt, you know. Of course I’m going to trail you all over the room. It’s not a bad view.”
He can see down my shirt? “Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?”
“Teddy, I can see down everyone’s shirt—it’s not like your tits are the only show in town tonight.”
“I don’t know how to reply to that.” I glance down at my chest, at the lackluster cleavage peeking up above my modest neckline. “I barely have any skin showing.”
“Bullshit. If those were popping out any farther I’d see nipple.”
The nerve of this guy! “You told me to wear something that would show off my boobs! I even put on a push-up bra, and trust me, the straps are digging into my skin. I should find the bathroom and take it off.”
That does the trick, and he backpedals. “I changed my mind. A guy should want you for your brains, not your tits. Pull up the shoulders on your shirt.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” My palm goes up and I pop it in his direction to shush him. “Know what? I can’t deal with you right now.”
“Well you’re going to have to, because we have an ironclad agreement.”