Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Four minutes later, we walk out the door, Maze looking fierce and me feeling like I’ve finally got my groove back.
----------
We pull up at the party to a small house and I’m somewhat pleased to see that it’s not as packed as the last party we went to, though that could have something to do with the fact that it was at Damian’s place and apart from Slade, he’s the most popular guy at school.
“Whose place is this?” I ask as Maze hooks her arm through mine and pulls me along to the open front door. “It’s Nessa’s. I think someone said it was her birthday or something like that. She hardly ever has parties so it’s kind of a big deal. All the snoops are showing up.”
“I bet,” I laugh, glancing around the front yard to see a handful of kids from school who generally keep to themselves. I guess not a lot can be said about curiosity. It’s plain and simple; if you dangle something in front of someone’s face, they’re bound to go for it.
As we walk through the small home, it becomes pretty clear that the majority of the guests here are all seniors but there’s one junior who stands out like dog’s balls. Blake stands out the back, drinking among a bunch of the guys on his team. Slade and Damian aren’t with him so I’m not too worried, but I still have a hard time watching him write himself off like that.
It’s been a tough week for both Blake and I. A lot of rumors and nosey bitches have been trying to pry information out of us that has brought up a whole bunch of shitty memories. I’ll leave Blake alone tonight, I can understand his need to let loose.
Maze leads me over to the drinks table and starts reaching for a canned soda. “No Tequila tonight?” I grin.
“Hell no,” she laughs. “I was throwing that up for two days after that party. I don’t think I’ll ever drink it again.”
“Speak for yourself,” I say, reaching across her until my fingers are curling around the neck of the bottle. If I’m going to spend my night with a girl I’m not quite sure I want to hate or not, then I’m probably going to need this. “Just don’t let me screw Damian on the dancefloor. I don’t think I could come back from that a second time.”
“What’s going on with you two?” she asks as we walk out the backdoor to have a good look around.
“Who? Me and Damian?” I gawk, thrown off by her question. “Nothing. We danced at his party, got a little too handsy with each other and then we didn’t screw because his bed was already occupied and that’s about the extent of it,” I lie.
“Really?” she grunts, making me wonder if she’s digging for information to betray me with. “That’s it? Because he’s been extra flirty with you. Don’t act like I don’t see all the winks and hooded eyes he’s been throwing your way.”
“Seriously, nothing’s going on. He wants me to be his next barbie doll that he can bend into all different positions but I told him no.”
“What?” she demands, outraged. “Girl, that was the stupidest thing I think you’ve ever done. Do you have any idea how good it would be with him? Like seriously, he’s all about the no-strings-attached sex. You would have had it so good.”
“Nah, that’s not for me. I’ve already done the no-strings-attached sex thing and soon enough, someone is bound to attach strings.”
“True.”
We walk towards a small bonfire and just as we’re about to sit down around it, Nessa steps in front of me. “Umm, hi,” she says awkwardly, looking at the ground.
My brows drop down in suspicion as I look over her. What could she possibly want? “Can I help you?”
“I, uh…I owe you an apology.”
My brows shoot right back up as I stare at her in surprise. “Umm, what?” I question, wondering if I heard her correctly.
“I’ve been an A-class bitch about your parents. I’m really sorry. If I’d known it were true, I never would have said anything like that. I feel awful about it.”
“You should,” I comment, darkly. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to have someone accuse you of lying about something like that? To witness your mother being stabbed to death, to see the blood splattered over the walls and floors and to then have some bitch girl who doesn’t know shit, use it as bait against you? Are you kidding me? What kind of awful person does that?”
Her eyes grow watery and the devil inside of me rejoices. “I didn’t know,” she says as a single tear falls down her cheek. “I swear, I thought you were lying.”
I scoff. “Because people just lie about their parents’ murder.” Her face breaks and I feel her meltdown coming along so I speed this up. After all, it’s her party and I’m not exactly ready to go home yet. There’s a nice flow of Tequila pumping through my veins and I haven’t had a chance to shake my ass yet. “Look,” I say with a sigh. “I don’t like you, not even close. You’re a bitch and clearly, someone who needs to learn a thing or two about morals. I don’t forgive you for what you said or the pain those comments caused, but it takes a big person to come and stand before me and apologize, especially considering I could beat the shit out of you. So, I respect you for that.”