Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
There’s so much to take in, my eyes don’t know where to look first. You could park a small airplane in this place it’s so big. This is definitely a party house. Wide-open spaces. Furniture sparse and large to accommodate the size of the guys who live here. Zoe said it belongs to one of the water polo players. Whoever he is he definitely wants for nothing.
A series of glass panels span the entire back of the house that overlooks the patio. All of them wide open. The crowd spills out around a pool lit up in orange, one half of Malibu U school colors, and down to the beach.
I’m gaping. I fully admit it. I’ve seen ridiculous displays of wealth. Living so close to New York City, it’s hard not to. This, however, is silly rich.
Lil Tjay’s Goat pumps loudly out of the state-of-the-art sound system. Bodies move, swaying to the beat. Arms wave in the air. Solo cups filled with alcohol slosh over the sides, spilling down shirts. Girls laughing. Guys shouting at an enormous wall-mounted television where a basketball game plays.
“This party is lit! Let’s head out back,” Zoe yells over the music. I can barely hear her. She motions us in the direction of the patio and ventures deeper into the crowd.
We find some open space the size of a postage stamp and park ourselves there. Dora fidgets with the short skirt Zoe made her wear, pulling on the hem, while her eyes dart around in wonder, not sure what to take in first. I’m almost as awestruck. Though I do a better job of concealing it.
“Incoming––mythical creature,” Zoe mutters through a fixed smile, the first time I’ve ever seen her look even remotely uncomfortable.
“Mythical creature?” I repeat with a curious glance at Blake.
“It’s a well-known fact that Brock Peterman is a virgin,” she explains, her lips tilting up on one side. “Every girl on campus is gunning for him.”
A guy approaches, a head taller than just about everyone else and therefore easy to spot. He’s wearing a faded blue Sharks Water Polo t-shirt, a deep tan, shorts, and flip-flops.
I’m starting to sense a trend here. Do any of these guys ever wear anything else? Is it a rich boy thing, or California thing?
“Well, I’m not,” I clarify. No matter how handsome he is. And that, he is––with intense, dark blue eyes and full lips that soften his overly angular features.
“N-neither am I,” Dora concurs.
“Me three,” Blake adds.
The only one conspicuously silent on the subject is Zoe who is presently surveying the crowd in an attempt to pretend she didn’t hear us. Her face grows tighter the closer he gets.
“Zoe––” Peterman calls out and Zoe’s head whips around, her shy smile blossoming into a full one. I’ve never seen her look so…vulnerable. Or genuinely happy for that matter. Which answers some of my questions and produces more.
“Hey, P.K.”
Set in a severe line, his lips part to reveal optic white teeth while his warm gaze takes its sweet time moving over her face. “Wanna go over notes tomorrow?”
His deep, smooth voice makes something as boring as studying sound sexy. And going by the look on Zoe’s face, I’m pretty sure I just heard her designer panties go up in flames.
A beat later he seems to recall that they are not in a bubble. His indigo eyes move to me and Dora and a question mark appears in them. One Zoe is quick to answer. “Brock, this is Dora and Alice. You know Blake.”
His chin tips up. “Ladies.” His attention immediately returns to Zoe. “How’s late afternoon? We can meet at the library?”
She looks up at him with so much undisguised awe that it almost feels like we’re intruding on an intimate moment.
“Brock––” yet another deep voice murmurs.
A tall black guy walks up and I’m instantly struck by his eyes. Large, golden, and rimmed in something darker. I can’t get a good read on the color because it seems to change with the way they catch light. They’re mesmerizing. And he just caught me staring. Great.
“Shane––Zoe, Dora, Blake, and…”
“Alice,” I finish for him.
Shane’s questioning gaze tags Brock’s. “Phone-tree girl?”
Phone-tree girl? I’m confused.
One corner of Brock’s mouth hikes up and he nods. Which only confuses me more. Shane smiles. It’s brief and brilliant, and so precious I can see why he doles it out in very small portions. “’Sup, ladies.” His attention immediately returns to Brock, expression turning grim. “Caught a couple of dudes doing bumps in the bathroom.”
Brock’s face darkens. “Ours?”
Shane shakes his head. “Never seen them before.”
“Do me a favor and toss them out.” Shane starts to leave and Brock catches him by the arm. “Take Quinn and Cole with you.”
Shane nods and a beat later he melds into the crowd.
“I am a golden god!” someone shouts from the second-floor balcony.