Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 120134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
“Yes!” Persy and Belle shrieked.
“CT?” He glanced at me from under his lashes. He was back in his element after being MIA all week.
“When will you stop calling me that?”
“Hmm, that would be never.”
I let my friends shake hands with my roommate while I regulated my heart rate and drank two glasses of water, immediately regretting the decision. Peeing in this dress seemed more difficult than securing a spot in the Olympics.
The ride to the Roosevelt Hotel was full of chatter. Belle and Persy asked Hunter questions about living in California. Not only did he answer, he also seemed to take genuine interest in their studies and lives. By the time the limo slid to a stop in front of the hotel, the only person who wasn’t having a ball was me.
The driver opened the door for us, and we all poured out. A slightly hysterical event coordinator in an all-black outfit met us at the lobby, introducing herself to my friends as Penny.
“I’m just going to borrow you for a second so we can get your tickets and put your names down for the grand prize. Thank you for supporting the School is Cool Foundation!”
I didn’t have the heart to tell Penny my friends had donated zero dollars for the cause, and felt panic climbing up my throat as I watched the blonde twosome galloping to the far corner of the lobby along with her.
Hunter stood beside me, hands in pockets, his eyes on them.
“You weren’t exaggerating. They are hot.”
“Drop dead.”
“Don’t tempt me after the week I’ve had.”
“How did you manage to pay for the tickets?” I wet my lips, knowing it was bad form to ask someone to drop 10k on your friends. But it was for charity. And ten thousand dollars was nothing to a guy like Gerald Fitzpatrick.
“Told Da I owed my local drug dealer money from way back.”
I choked on my own saliva. “Do you?”
He tore his eyes from my friends and frowned at me. “Fuck’s the matter with you? I don’t have a drug dealer. Or a drug problem. I just needed to get this shit done. Da will never pass up an opportunity to think badly of me. If he could find this imaginary dealer and convince him to lace my cocaine with anthrax, E. coli, and cyanide, he would.”
“Can’t blame him,” I piped. But actually, I could. Hunter wasn’t all that bad. He definitely wasn’t malicious.
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”
“Do what?”
“Hate me with such a passion. Your wrath gives me a semi, and I still have a kiss I can collect whenever I wish to.”
Aaaaand he’s back to being a scumbag.
“Not whenever you wish to. People can’t see us making out.” I wiped my sweaty hands on my dress, taking in the fancy lobby. The marble flooring was rose gold, the curtains pale pink, and the furniture a sleek champagne.
It wasn’t that I had no sexual experience. I’d actually had a boyfriend through junior and senior year. Beau was a fellow archer. We attended the same high school and archery club. We never went to any parties, and I wouldn’t really speak to him at school. He had his own crew and never sought me out, either. But we’d practice together many afternoons. Sometimes we went to his place afterwards, watched a movie, made out, and later, when we got older, had sex. But we never labeled it, gave each other presents, or celebrated Valentine’s Day.
Even our breakup wasn’t an emotional one. One day he told me he’d received a scholarship to a Canadian college with a competitive archery program, and he’d accepted it. I was genuinely happy for him, which I thought was the point of liking someone. But when I broke the good news to Mom, and said how awesome it was for Beau to move to Canada, she stared at me like I’d just escaped a mental facility and forced me into eating ice cream and watching Blue Valentine with her.
“Making out now? That escalated quickly. Is it the suit?” Hunter’s eyes drifted back to Persy and Belle.
I wondered how much he’d give to replace me with one of them. A lot, probably. That made me want to throw up.
“The fact that we haven’t spoken in almost a week helped.” I rummaged in the black velvet purse I’d borrowed from Emmabelle, looking for nothing in particular and pretending to be busy.
“That kiss better be worth ten grand.” He tsked.
“No kiss is worth that much.” I scoffed, clicking the purse shut. He turned to look at me, cool and collected.
“Obviously you’ve never been kissed by a Fitzpatrick.”
“Have you?” I challenged, cocking a brow. “Was it your brother or sister? I’m hoping your brother. I love me some male-on-male action.”
He threw his head back and laughed so wildly, the echo of his voice bounced off the walls. A herd of people walked toward us. I recognized them on sight: the Fitzpatricks.