Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
I didn’t go to my high school’s ten-year reunion. Not that there weren’t some people I wouldn’t have minded seeing. But it was being organized by the popular girls. Their shitty attitude in the group chat made the decision for me. Some people don’t change or grow. They just settle more into the awful reality of who they always were. Life is too short for that sort of thing.
Yet somehow I ended up at someone else’s reunion feeling even more out of place than I anticipated feeling at my own.
I turn away from the golden couple on the dance floor. Mari is slow dancing on the sidelines with a petite androgynous person with close-cropped hair. They move easily together, like they’ve done it a hundred times. Someday I want to be smiled at that way. But alas. Here I stand alone with a glass of cider in hand and my smile fixed in place. Best fake date ever. No one could beat me. Though it’s not easy to ignore all the curious attendees who keep turning my way. Am I supposed to burst into tears or something? To wail with despair and run for the door?
“I thought I’d stand next to you,” says a woman with a German accent. “Since you look about how I feel.”
“Oh yeah?”
She is, simply put, stunning. Older than me with high cheekbones, bee-stung lips, and a sharp chin. A long plait of pale blonde hair hangs over one shoulder. She wears simple black underwear beneath a long sheer dress with matching leather booties. It’s giving supermodel.
Connor and Ava keep dancing as other people join them on the dance floor. Love Story finishes and is replaced by Umbrella. But I fear not even Rihanna can save tonight.
“How do I look?” I ask. “Just out of curiosity.”
“Like someone yeeted your heart into the sun.”
I snort. “That’s harsh. I’m doing my best.”
“Oh, I’m sure you are.”
“So, who’s messing with your major organs?” I ask.
“That one.” She nods in the general direction of the prom king and queen.
Shit. “Connor?” I ask.
“No,” she says with a hint of a smile. “The other one. Love sucks.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Let’s dance,” says Brian, who is basically the last person I want to see.
I don’t spare the sneer. “No thanks.”
My new German friend just raises an eyebrow at the sweaty man. Disdain done well is an art form. It sort of makes sense that she’s here. With her work as a photographer, Ava must meet all types of people. Including tall, stunning, and intimidating supermodels who have maybe followed her halfway around the world. What a romantic gesture that would be. Most of the people I’ve dated wouldn’t even follow me down a dark hallway.
But Brian isn’t finished. Hell no. He puffs himself up and says, “In case you haven’t noticed, your date’s ditched you. Not a surprise given what you’re up against. You’re lucky I’m giving you the time of day.”
“Do you feel lucky?” enquires my new supermodel friend. And for the record, German accents are hot.
“Not so much. You have some white powder around your nose there, Brian.”
He sniffs and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. What a gross goddamn creep. But it’s when he grabs my wrist with the same hand that I really want to get violent.
“Let me go,” I say while attempting to remain calm.
“Just listen.”
“Brian, get your fucking hand off me.”
“Nice language,” he snarls. “There’s no need to be a bitch. I am doing you a favor.”
“And I said no. Now let me go.”
Things are happening around us. The crowd on the dance floor parts to let someone through. However, I am too busy to notice who. It would be great to see the security the idiot mentioned in his speech. There’s a good chance I’m going to attack this asshole with my glass of cider.
“This guy bothering you, Blue?” asks Connor in a deceptively calm tone.
I could not be happier to see him. I tug my hand free of Brian’s while he’s distracted, and take a step back out of easy-grabbing range.
“She’s fine. Jesus. Calm down, Connor,” says Brian. “You got a temper like your father.”
My date says nothing. He just stands there seething. The muscles in his neck seem to have thickened and his hands are curled into fists.
“We were just gonna dance.” Brian leers at my breasts with a smug smile. “You should be thanking me for taking care of your leftovers.”
“Don’t talk to her. Don’t touch her. Don’t even look at her,” says Connor. “Keep your eyes on me.”
There’s no warning when Brian attacks. It all happens so quickly. He swings wild, which makes sense given his condition. But Connor is ready and steps into it, taking the hit straight to his cheek. It must hurt and he does flinch. Though why he would volunteer to take the hit is a mystery.