Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Ugh, what a mess.
A knock sounded at my door.
I groaned. “Go away!”
The knock got louder, and then, he said, “Coming in.”
“What the hell!” I jerked up onto my elbows.
Of course it was Vaughan. Great timing.
“Shouldn’t you be at practice or prowling the streets for your next whore? I’m not in the mood for negative and emotional banter. I mean it.”
Vaughan leaned against the doorframe. “Party.”
“Huh?”
“Tomorrow.” He smiled so wide that my heart skipped a beat. His wickedly dangerous dark blond hair was wet like he’d just showered or at least gone for a run, and he was wearing the tightest black shirt known to humankind with shorts that did nothing but remind me that, yes, he was indeed a quarterback with ginormous quads who never skipped leg day.
Party? Did he mean like… my party? A party? Nobody had ever thrown me a party before. Was he serious, or did he mean, like party as in get drunk?
I sat fully up and crossed my arms. “Explain in less than thirty seconds, or I’m building a shank out of sheer willpower and rage.”
He pushed away from the door and sauntered over to me until I faced nothing but stupid gray shorts that hid nothing from my line of vision.
His clapping jerked me out of my staring contest with his dick. “Eyes up here, Cinderella.”
For the first time in a while, I was too exhausted to even have a nasty response. I just obeyed. “Are you going to explain?”
“Yeah, so tomorrow—”
He remembered! I jumped to my feet. “Tomorrow?” Tears were actually welling in my eyes. In one small moment, he completely redeemed himself because he remembered. He remembered my birthday!
“Tomorrow!” He nodded seriously. “We party our asses off because I just got an A on my test, and it’s all thanks to you!”
He wrapped his arms around my body and hugged me tight. When I didn’t hug back, he pulled away and winked. “Nerd.” He started walking away. “Eight. Don’t be late. No excuses.”
“Right.” My breaths were coming out too fast. I could barely inhale, let alone exhale. “Eight.”
He shut the door behind him.
He didn’t see me collapse onto my bed.
If he had come into my room the next day, he would have still seen the tear stains on my pillow. He would be able to taste the sadness in the air.
The feeling of getting your hopes up only to realize it was for nothing.
And the absolute temptation of self-sabotage that went with it.
He would see it all.
The old Vaughan would have held my hand and said, “What can I do?”
This Vaughan, he wasn’t mine anymore. He looked the same. But there was too much damage.
Happy Birthday to me and my sadness.
CHAPTER 21
VAUGHN
Iwas stoked. Completely out of my mind thrilled I could shove that A straight up my dad's pinched-as-fuck ass. I hadn’t seen Tru all day, and the party was getting ready to start. Why was I so anxious? Her kiss did me dirty in so many ways, and I wanted her to know that it helped. I walked out of that library, and all I could think about was the surprise of her mouth on mine. I was so hyperfocused when I walked into that test that I finished it in half the time.
As much as it irritated me that she’d been right, part of me also knew that I owed her an apology. I also semi forgave her for the hair and short-sheeting. Clever, actually. We’d probably kill each other later in this dirty little war—but she gave me one small moment of accomplishment that I could smear in my dad's face. I was happy. And I wanted to party the shit out of Saturday and well into Sunday.
I checked my phone again.
Nothing.
Whatever. Her loss, right?
The door suddenly swung open. Chad, one of our linebackers built like a brick and corn-fed from Iowa, held up two cases of beer. “Let’s go, bitches!”
Brady elbowed me in the ribs. “He's wearing a tartan?”
“The man is definitely wearing a tartan.”
I couldn’t help my smirk. “The man even Scottish?”
“FREEEEEEDOM!” Chad shouted, lifting his two cases. Oh shit, Rainier beer? Seriously? “SPARTA!"
I choked on my laugh. “Bro’s already three sheets to the wind. He just quoted Braveheart and the three hundred in one sentence. It’s gonna be a good night.”
“The best.” Chad bumped my fist.
What could possibly go wrong?
Three hours later, I learned the answer to that question.
“I take it back. I take it all back.” I drunkenly groaned into my cup. “Chad’s the worst.”
A loud thunk sounded. Someone was so drunk they fell over by getting hit by a ping pong ball. Chad thought it was a good idea to start beer pong early. For the record, it wasn’t.
Wait, wasn’t Chad just standing next to me?
My eyes were so blurry that it was hard to walk in a straight line, let alone think in one. Wait, that wasn't right. People didn’t think in straight lines. Huh, that was funny.