Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
“That, my dear, is only because you don’t realize what you’ve been missing.”
“Heartache, STI’s, and the possibility of an unplanned pregnancy?” I flutter my lashes and smile. “You are so right.”
Ignoring my comment, she tosses a pair of gold sandals at me before sliding her feet into black leather ones that strap up her legs, giving her that whole Grecian goddess vibe. She looks amazing. But then again, when doesn’t she? Alyssa has long blond hair and dark blue eyes. Her skin has a natural sun-kissed glow that darkens under the summer sun.
It almost offends me that Colton refuses to fuck my friend.
What the hell is wrong with him?
“Ready to go?” she asks, checking her reflection in the mirror one last time.
I slip the sandals on before rising to my full height. “As I’ll ever be.”
Five minutes later, we’ve traversed the lawn and are walking around the side of the Hollingsworth mansion. All sixteen thousand square feet of it. Needless to say, Archibald has turned ambulance chasing into a lucrative art form.
With every step we take, the sound of drunken laughter and the pulsing beat of music grows louder, assaulting our ears. As soon as the party comes into view, I wonder why I let Alyssa talk me into this.
It’s complete chaos.
As much as Alyssa would like to convince you otherwise, I’m not a complete dud. I like to party as much as the next girl. But Beck enjoys taking his antics to the next level. He’s not content to have a low-key get together where people sit around and chill.
This party is moments away from becoming one of those teen movies where all hell breaks loose and the host wakes up naked the next morning in a dumpster five states away next to a goat.
Over to the left, a few people are holding a guy upside down while he performs a keg stand.
Chants of—chug, chug, chug permeate the air.
It wouldn’t surprise me if one of these drunken idiots is found floating face down in the pool come morning.
It begs the question of why Beck’s parents would leave him alone without supervision. He might be eighteen years old and technically an adult, but he needs an adultier adult to keep him in check. Someone who can put the kibosh on his hijinks.
Good luck with that. His older brother, Ari, is out of the country for the summer.
Archibald and Caroline, his parents, must have realized this was inevitable. Every time they go out of town, Beck throws a huge bash. Depending on the amount of damage, he gets grounded anywhere from a couple of days to a couple of weeks. The threat of consequences—hell, actual consequences being enforced—are in no way a deterrent.
Believe it or not, before our parents left town for a long weekend in New York, Archie asked me to keep an eye on their son. His actual words were—make sure no one dies.
As if I exert that much control over Beck?
Yeah, right. Beck doesn’t listen to anyone, let alone me.
Exactly what am I supposed to do?
Tattletale?
Facetime his parents so they can get a first-hand glimpse of the ensuing pandemonium?
As much pleasure as that would give me, it’s not going to happen. I might be a lot of things (a rule follower and a goody-goody, if you listen to Beck) but there are lines that can’t be crossed and snitching is one of them.
This will be one more antic Beck gets away with. I suppose that’s the beauty of being Beckett Hollingsworth. He doesn’t give a shit about anything other than football.
The Neanderthal sport is his life.
By the time Beck was a freshman in high school, he’d already drawn the attention of Big Ten college coaches. They couldn’t wait to get him on their roster. If he could have gone straight to the NFL after graduation, he would have. But that’s not a possibility. Players aren’t eligible to enter the draft until after their sophomore year of college. Beck’s father has taken it one step further by insisting he wait until senior year because—and I quote—no damn son of mine is going to be a college dropout.
Beck will be proof positive that C’s really do earn degrees.
As my gaze drifts over the thick crowd of glassy-eyed stares, it collides with bright green ones. A little zip of electricity sizzles its way through my veins as our gazes fasten. The muscles in my belly tense with awareness. Once I realize what’s happening, I tamp down the reaction. My life has been filled with a thousand little moments like this one. Moments I like to pretend never transpired.
For all I know, it’s gastritis from the sushi I picked up at the gas station last night.
Anything’s possible, right?
Instead of glancing away, I hold his stare and scowl. What I’ve learned is that it’s better to brazen out these situations than turn tail and run. Beck’s perfect cupid’s bow of a mouth lifts into a knowing grin before he crooks his finger.