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)
Ugh . . .
My phone vibrating on the side table wakes me. “It’s too late for your drunken phone calls, Chloe,” I grumble as I answer.
“Guess who just turned up at the club?” she yells through the loud nightclub music.
I rub my eyes to try and focus on her voice. “Who?”
“Henley James.”
“What?” I sit up, suddenly wide awake. “What time is it?” I glance at the clock on my phone: 2:00 a.m. “Who’s he there with?”
“Two guys.”
“Are you serious?” I get out of bed.
“You get down here and tip a fucking drink on his head for standing you up.”
I drag my hand down my face. “What’s he wearing?”
“Who cares. He looks like a walking vibrator in whatever he’s wearing.”
“Are you sure it’s him?”
“I’m sending you a video.” She fumbles with the phone for a few seconds. “I’ll call you back.” She hangs up, and I go to the bathroom and walk out into my living area. My phone beeps a text, and I hit play.
Henley is talking to two men. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt and talking and laughing. He’s looking all relaxed while drinking a Corona beer. A hot girl walks past, and his eyes drop to her behind. And then he says something to his friends before turning his attention back to her behind.
My heart sinks.
Wow . . .
My phone rings again. “Hi,” I answer.
“See it?”
“Yep.” I sigh.
“He’s a fucking asshole,” Chloe spits.
“Whatever, I don’t care what he does.” I act unruffled.
“Can I tell him what I think of him?”
“No,” I snap. “Forget him like I have. I’m going back to bed.”
“I’m sorry, babe.”
“Don’t be. I’m not,” I lie.
“Breakfast in the morning?” she asks.
I can’t believe this.
I really don’t want to spend all day tomorrow listening to disco tales of Henley James, and seeing Chloe tomorrow will open the gates for that. “I can’t. I’m seeing my parents,” I tell her. “Catch up next week?”
“Sure, babe.” She hesitates. “You okay?”
No.
“Of course I am.” I smile sadly. “Bye.”
I hang up, and with my heart in my throat, I torture myself and watch the video of Henley again.
The way he’s all relaxed and happy. The way he looks at that girl’s behind.
The way it makes me feel.
As reality sets in, an old proverb runs through my mind: If something seems too good to be true, it usually is.
Asshole.
We walk down the crowded footpath. “So then, I wait at home all night, and Chloe calls to tell me he’s in a club at two a.m.,” I continue on my rant to Liam.
“Why did you sleep with him? That’s not like you to give it up on a first date,” he replies, uninterested.
“Because he was the best date of my fucking life, that’s why. And maybe I just wanted to be a bad girl for one night, you know?”
“No. I don’t know.”
“Because you’re my brother, that’s why. If you had the best date of your life, would you play Mr. Innocent to prove a point?”
He rolls his eyes. “Are we going in here?” He gestures to a restaurant.
Poor Liam. I made him come to lunch with me so I can vent all about my weekend from hell.
“Yeah.” I sigh. “This will do.” I push the heavy door open, and we wait in line to be served.
“How do you know it was even him in the club? Chloe was probably wearing beer goggles.”
“Because she sent me a video of him.”
“She took a video of him?” He screws up his face in disgust. “That’s not creepy at all.”
“Look.” I bring up the video that I know by heart by now because I’ve watched it ten thousand times.
I hit play, and he watches the footage. “He’s a douche, Juliet.”
I exhale heavily. “It was the best night of my life.”
“No, it wasn’t. Look how he made you feel. He’s a fucktard. Forget him.”
I sigh heavily. “I guess.”
“What’s his name, anyway?”
“Henley.”
“That’s a weird name.” He curls his lip in disgust. “Hen as in chicken?”
“Hen as in cock, I would say.” I widen my eyes.
He winces. “Yuck, too much information.”
As we wait, he watches the video on my phone again. He passes it back in disgust. “If I ever see him, I’ll knock him out for you,” he mutters dryly. “Deal?”
“Okay, deal.” I smile, feeling a little bit better that my younger brother is also one of my best friends.
We get to the front of the line. “Hello, can we have a table for two, please?” I ask.
The hostess looks over the booking sheet. “I just have to get the table cleared. Can you wait for five minutes?”
“Sure.”
She gestures to a waiting area. “Just wait in there, and I’ll call you when it’s ready. What’s the name?”
“Juliet.”
We make our way into the bar area to wait for our table, and I watch the video of Henley again. I don’t know why I keep watching the damn thing. It’s as if I’m hoping to find evidence that this actually isn’t him.