Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
She should have slapped me, but some girls wanted this crap. They wanted a little bit of hate, a touch of degradation. And what had I done over the past two years? Lapped that shit up like it was gold-plated champagne.
I shoved Virginia away when she reached for my belt. “Not interested,” I said, then cut between two girls making out in their bras and headed upstairs to the bathroom. Of course, someone was in there. I banged over the wood. “I swear to God if anyone is in their fucking.”
When they didn’t answer, I went to my room, fell back on the bed, and stared up at the glow-in-the-dark stars Lola had stuck up there when we were ten. I should have taken them down already. I just couldn’t bring myself to. Just like I couldn't bring myself to cut off her bracelets.
Lola and I had raised ourselves and learned how to survive on our own because the adults around us were so fucked out of their heads on drugs that the only thing that mattered was that next high, not meals or baths or setting an alarm to get us up for school. We’d formed a bond out of desperation and survival, one that taught us love, when we had no clue what that word meant, and there was no erasing that. No taking it down or cutting it off…
The bathroom door clicked open.
Just as I pushed off the bed, Virginia staggered around the corner of the banister and into my room. She threw herself onto the bed, trying to wrangle off her top.
“Get your drunk ass out.” I grabbed her by the waist, hauled her to her feet, and dragged her into the hall. “Stay out of my room.”
“I feel sick.”
I shoved her into the bathroom just before she gagged. Vomit hit the sink.
“Oh, God…” I slammed the door behind me as Bellamy and Drew came out of the spare room.
I glared at her. “You better clean your Paris Hilton stench off my sheets. I’m trying to rent out that room.”
“Your house is a shithole, and you think my stench is going to be the problem?”
“My house is a palace in Dayton. Rich people's shit is nothing but a tacky eyesore.” I glared at her. “Just like you.”
Bellamy swiped a hand over his face. “Why do you even start with him, Drew?”
“I don’t know. I kind of like it. Speaking of which... Heard your ex-girlfriend is over at Bennett’s house party.”
Lola at a Barrington party… A worm of jealousy wriggled through my chest. “I don’t give a shit.”
Then I went back downstairs to fake-enjoy my friend’s going away party.
Chapter 12
LOLA
“The prince kissed the princess.” I closed the glittery fairytale book and placed it by the lamp on Gracie’s nightstand. “And they lived happily ever after.”
If only that were true. In real life, the prince kissed the princess, came on her shirt, walked her home, acted all chivalrous, then kissed her again, and finally didn’t acknowledge her for a week.
I pushed those thoughts away and tucked the frilly blanket around Gracie’s sleeping form. She looked so tiny in the middle of her queen bed, surrounded by hordes of pillows and fancy cushions.
Growing up, I’d always read her bedtime stories about princesses, and here she was, living like one, in a massive room with a toy store-worth of toys. It was a stark difference from the foster homes I’d lived in. My foster parents provided the bare minimum. Nothing more.
The Lancaster’s were nice. They seemed to actually like each other, love each other… Dinner with them had been far better than I had expected. They were rich in so many ways, and Gracie was a part of that. An effortless addition to their perfect family.
I wanted to resent them for being able to give her everything I couldn’t, but I didn’t. I just missed her. I pushed to my feet and switched off the light, fighting the sting of tears as I pulled the door closed.
“She down?”
I was startled at the sound of Chad’s voice before I turned to look at him. He stood in the hall by an open door I assumed must be his. A band tee had replaced his stuffy, button-down shirt from dinner, and it looked so out of place on him.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Cool.” He fell into step beside me as I made my way toward the stairs. “So, I’m going to a party. You wanna come?”
I stopped with my hand on the smooth banister. There was only one reason Barrington guys ever wanted to hang out with Dayton girls. They might not want to talk to or be associated with the white trash, but they sure as hell didn’t mind sticking their dick in it.
My defenses came up. “You’re not my type.”
Grinning, he pushed off the rail and shifted closer. “You’re not my type either. You’re way too…female.”