Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
The last time I'd seen him, he'd been in a bar fight over a fucking pool game. With three guys. One-handed. Because he refused to put down his bottle of whiskey.
It hadn't ended too well, but he'd gotten up off the ground with a smile, pouring the whiskey over his busted face.
"Old lady, CW, or princess?" Dezi asked, looking at Hope.
"What's a CW?" she asked, brows drawing together as he dropped down on the arm of the couch she was sitting on. Putting his boot-clad feet on the cushion, so he could fully face her.
"Clubwhore. But that's not very progressive of me, is it?"
"Do I look like a clubwhore?" Hope asked, waving down at her dark brown jeans, green tee, and combat boots. "Not a single easy access point."
"Fair point. And it seems like you're committed to your phone, not a guy here. So, you're a princess. Who is your pops?"
"Renny," she supplied, half paying attention.
"Ah, your pops isn't a fan of me."
"Does it have something to do with your clothing choices? Or lack thereof?"
"I spilled hot sauce all over it. Didn't want to make a bad impression," Dezi declared, smirking at Hope.
"And you thought half-nudity would make a better impression?"
"Well, have you seen all this?" he declared, waving toward his naked chest and stomach. Dezi was fit, but not super cut. He clearly hit the gym sometimes, but liked his hot-sauce-topped bad food and liquor. "So, what's your name, princess?"
"Hope."
"What? Look at this? It's fate," he declared, holding out his fist to her where he had the letters of the word "hope" tattooed across his fingers.
"Yeah? What's the other hand say?" she asked, smirking when he tried to tuck the hand away.
"Hey, no need to bring that into this," he said as she reached out to grab his hand, looking at his fingers.
"Lost," she repeated. "Lost hope," she added, putting his fists together.
"But now I found her," he declared, slipping his fingers between hers.
"What part of 'princess' is so hard to understand?" Fallon asked, shoving the back of Dezi's head as he walked past.
"Hey, you can't fight fate," Dezi declared dramatically, all charm, even if it was superficial.
"Try harder," Hope said.
"Ouch," Dezi hissed, pressing a hand to his heart. "So, can we crack open a bottle now, or do we have to wait until after the others get here?" he asked, hopping off the couch.
"This place is going to be getting interesting," Hope said, unfolding from the sofa. "Someone might want to keep that puppy on a leash," she added, waving toward Dezi as she made her way toward the door. "He seems like trouble," she added before heading out.
"She seems prickly," Dezi announced.
"If by 'prickly' you mean 'will stab you in the eye if you get within five feet of her,'" Fallon said, smirking, "then yes. I don't want to have to tell you again to stay away from her with anything other than friendly intentions."
"Stay away from who?" Billie asked, making Fallon let out a groan. "Me?"
"For fuck's sake. You all know tonight is church," Fallon grumbled.
"Oh, yes, I better not interrupt your super-secret boys-only meeting. Which is totally fine and not at all misogynistic," Billie said, tilting her head at her club-cousin. "What are you going to do? Tell on me," she added, rolling her eyes.
"Christ. Is every beautiful woman in this town a princess because that is not fair," Dezi grumbled, placing a hand over his heart, drawing Billie's attention over toward him.
"Oh, you look fun."
"No," Fallon said.
"No what?" she shot back, acting innocent, pressing a manicured hand to her heart.
"What? Drooling over Rowe isn't enough for you?" Fallon asked, and he seemed to miss the way Billie's face hardened. For all his talk about not fucking with the girls, he was the one who tended to get into trouble with them the most. What with him refusing to have a filter and all. "Is that why you're here? To moon-eye at him again?"
"For your information," Billie said, tone deceptively bright. See, I spent more time with the girls than the rest of our club-cousins did, so I knew that tone better than they did. And when Billie was using it, she was about to make someone very uncomfortable. "When we were here last for our sleepover, I somehow managed to leave my yoni eggs up in the glass room."
"Your what? You left eggs here?" Fallon asked, brows drawing together.
"Yoni eggs," she clarified.
"What the fuck is that?" he asked as Dezi let out a chuckle that said he knew exactly what they were.
"They're little egg-shaped gemstones. You shove them up your pussy to learn to tighten the muscles—"
"Oh, Jesus Christ," Fallon grumbled, raking a hand through his hair.
"They have this little string attached to pull them back out, so they don't get stu—"
"I get it," Fallon cut her off, looking massively uncomfortable with the turn of conversation.