Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
I cut him off. “I get it.”
I need to find the right girl to kiss him better. Because he deserves better, much better.
“Maybe we’re destined to be single for forever.” I smirk.
“Suits me.” He smiles. “I’ve got my tools in my truck. Want me to change the hinges?”
“Really?” I sit up, excited. “You have time?”
“Yes, but you’re making me carbonara for dinner.”
“Deal.” I beam.
Henley
“You want another beer?” I ask as I stand.
Antony lies on a deck chair by his pool, eyes closed. “Yeah, that’d be good.” He yawns, half-asleep. “Grab us a snack or something while you’re up.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, cheese.” He shrugs, eyes still closed. “Biscuits.”
“You’re going to turn into fucking cheese and biscuit soon.”
“Probably,” he replies, uninterested.
I called over to see him this afternoon and somehow have now been out here lying by the pool for three hours. I walk inside and grab two beers and a packet of chips and walk out the back door. From the high balcony I glance up and see Juliet’s house.
Whose vehicle is that in her driveway? I stand still as I watch for a moment.
Whose fucking car is that?
Who cares? It doesn’t matter.
I take the beers and chips down to the pool area and put them onto the table between the deck chairs, and then before I can even sit down, I turn and walk back to the house. “Where are you going now?” Ant asks.
“Checking something out.”
“Like what?”
“Back in a minute.” I stand on the steps and stare over to Juliet’s. The front door opens, and a guy walks out. He’s shirtless.
What?
Who the fuck is this?
I narrow my eyes as I try to home my vision in on him. I’ve seen him somewhere before. He looks familiar somehow.
He walks out to the truck and grabs a toolbox.
Who is he?
He turns so I can completely see his face. Where have I . . . the penny drops.
Get fucked.
That’s the fucking fiancé.
She’s still with him. That’s it! I storm down to the deck chair, infuriated.
“She has got to be fucking kidding,” I spit.
“Who?”
“Little Miss Innocent from number eleven.”
Ant exhales heavily. “What now?”
“You know who’s at her fucking house right now? I’ll tell you who,” I fume. “It’s that dopy prick fiancé.”
“Huh?”
“She’s still with him.” I begin to pace. “So she’s dry humping me at the wedding in public, forcing me to go back to my apartment because I can’t be trusted being next door to her and not jumping the fence. Get blisters on my hand from wanking so much, and the whole entire time she’s still going to marry him,” I spit.
Ant stares at me.
“Oh . . . she’s good, I’ll give her that. Plays me like a fucking fiddle.” I walk back and forth on the deck as my mind races. “You know what she is?” I point at him. “She’s venomous. She’s a lying, poisonous, voodoo-pussy wolf in a lamb suit. That’s what she is.”
Ant thinks for a moment. “Sneaky woolly muff?”
I smirk at his analogy. “Exactly.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
I drop to sit down and exhale heavily. “Nothing.”
“Nothing as in wank over her some more?”
I roll my eyes, disgusted at myself for wanting her. “Pretty much.”
I glance at my watch as I drink my coffee. Shit, I’ve got to go. I’m late.
I’m on struggle street this morning. Exhausted after tossing and turning over the witch next door.
I’m over it. I’m over her.
Fuck this.
I put my toast in my mouth to hold it, grab my coffee to go, and walk past the glass back door, and something catches my eye.
Huh . . .
I step back and stare into my backyard. My face drops in horror. “What the fuck?” I explode. I open the sliding door to see carnage like you’ve never seen before.
Mud.
Everywhere.
Potted plants tipped over and chewed up.
My white Italian outdoor couch cushions covered in mud. “Someone has broken in and vandalized my entire backyard.” I look around. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
From the corner of my eye, I see something move and turn to see Juliet’s mangy dog up on my white outdoor couch as if he owns the place, fast asleep on his back and snoring. He’s covered in mud from where he dug under the fence to get into my yard.
I inhale sharply and clench my fists at my side. “Motherfucker.”
Adrenaline surges through my body.
I walk over to the snoring dog and glare down at him as I imagine his grisly end. “What did you do?” I growl.
He keeps snoring, and I see red.
Calm down.
I inhale deeply as I look around at the disaster zone.
I’m livid.
“Barry,” I hear Juliet call from next door. “Barry, where are you?”
The dumb dog lifts its head up when it hears her voice and then flops it back down to sleep again.
My eyes flicker red as thermal nuclear energy threatens to steal my control.