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 glance back over to the group to see Blake hand the blonde the drink with a kiss and then hand the brunette her drink with a kiss too. While he’s kissing the brunette, his hand slides up the blonde’s leg and beneath her short dress as she sits on the stool.
“Nope, he’s fucking them both for certain.” I puff air into my cheeks. “And they are so hot. What are they thinking? Un-fucking-believable.”
“Ugh . . . damn it,” Chloe snaps. “I hate that he has enough cock for two women.”
I roll my eyes.
“Call me back. I need updates.”
“Okay.” I hang up and go to the bathroom and try to calm myself down, and then I make my way back over to the group. Without making eye contact, Henley passes me a drink and goes back straight to talking to Antony. “Thanks.” I fake a smile to the back of his head.
Dickhead.
Damn it, Blake Grayson and his bimbo harem have rattled me. I’m suddenly feeling very naive and inexperienced. I thought he was a nice, respectable, kind doctor. Apparently not.
He’s a porn star with a double-shot cock.
Stop it.
Just because this night is different does not mean there are problems with Henley and me.
We are fine.
He’s different, an annoying little voice from my unconscious whispers.
He is different today. I can’t deny it, but . . . ugh, perhaps it’s just because things are going so great between us. Try not to overthink this.
His words from earlier come back to haunt me. Am I acting weird, or are you acting clingy?
Maybe I am being super clingy. I do feel very unhinged today, and I am hormonal.
It’s fine. Everything is fine.
Blake can fuck whoever he wants, and if they want to share his dirty dick, more fool them.
I can’t let it get to me.
Over the next hour I stand back as a spectator and let the night run its course.
Henley is being his swoony playful self to everyone but me. In fact, he hasn’t even looked my way.
I’m not imagining it. Something is going on.
The music is pumping loud now. You can hardly hear over it. “Dance with me,” Mason says as he puts his arm around me. I edge out of his grip.
“I’m not in the mood tonight,” I call. I’m not even lying. I am so not in the mood to dance. In fact, I think I’m going to go home. Being alone in my bed is much better than being alone here.
Mason looks over to Henley. “She won’t dance with me.”
“Dance with him, Taryn,” Henley calls over the loud music.
Taryn, who is well on her way to Drunkville, holds her hands up in the air and sashays. “Let’s go, baby.”
I sip my drink and look out over the dance floor.
“You should go and dance with him,” Henley says as he comes to stand beside me.
“I don’t want to dance with him, Henley,” I mutter into my drink. “You know this.”
“Why not?”
I frown over at him. “I think you know why.”
“Because of our arrangement?”
I sip my drink.
“I’ve been thinking about that.”
My skin bristles.
“And?”
“I want to explore this thing with Taryn.”
“What?”
Did I hear that right?
“I’m into Taryn,” he calls over the music. “I want to take her home tonight.”
I step back from him, shocked.
I couldn’t have heard that right.
“You want to take Taryn home tonight?” I ask to make sure I heard him right.
“You should take Mason home.” He shrugs casually, as if we are talking about a drink from the bar. “He’d be a good fuck, I imagine.”
Boom, boom, boom sounds my heartbeat in my ears. My stupid eyes well with tears, and unable to even form a sentence, I turn and march toward the doors.
He wants her.
I barge through the crowd, hurt like never before. What the fuck is he saying?
I thought we had something.
I angrily swipe my stupid tears away. “Excuse me,” I yell. “Excuse me.”
I burst out the front doors and onto the street. I look up and down the footpath. It’s sprinkling with rain, and I begin to walk up the road.
I’ve never been so shocked by someone in my life. I’ve got to get the fuck out of here.
“Juliet,” Henley’s voice calls out from behind me.
I keep walking.
“Will you stop?”
I keep marching. Hot salty tears are running down my face.
Stop crying.
“Juliet,” he yells. “Stop.”
I stop on the spot, my face screwed up in tears.
I hate that I’m crying.
“Turn around,” he demands.
I turn, and his face falls when he sees my tears. “I’m sorry.”
My haunted eyes hold his.
“It’s for the best.”
“Why?” I whisper, my heart melting into a puddle out of the bottom of my dress.
How could he be so cold?
“I don’t want this,” he snaps. “This fantasy that you’ve built up in your head is not . . .” His voice trails off.
“I don’t understand.”
He throws his hands out wide. “I don’t fucking love you, okay?”