Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“I was in the neighborhood…” I answered, falling back into the awkward teenager I’d been trying to leave behind me for years.
“Kids okay?” he asked, walking across the room and pouring what looked like Jack Daniel’s into one of the hotel coffee mugs.
“Aunt Ellie said they’re already asleep.”
“She called you?”
“Yep.”
“I told her I’d be home in the morning.”
“She worries.”
“As you can see, I’m fine.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” I replied, finally stepping into the room and letting the door swing closed behind me. “Want to share?” I asked, nodding to the bottle on the table.
“Not especially.”
“Will you share?”
“I guess.”
I sat on the edge of the bed as he poured me a mug of whiskey and nodded my thanks as he handed it over. Crap, I hated the smell of whiskey. Ever since Rachel and I had gotten wasted on some bottom-shelf shit at our first party in college, I smelled it and was reminded of whiskey-tinged vomit coming out my nose.
“You couldn’t have splurged on the good stuff, huh?” I asked, taking a small sip.
His startled laugh made me smile, but I didn’t look at him as he landed on the bed next to me with a small bounce.
“Figured it didn’t matter if I was just using it to get shitty.”
“That’s your plan for the night?” I asked, eyeballing the mostly empty bottle as I felt my limbs begin to heat. Shit, it had been so long since I’d had a buzz that the feeling was almost euphoric.
“Get shitfaced, jack off, and sleep,” he announced with a smirk as my eyes shot to his face. “Aw, look at you. Still blushing at the mention of masturbating.”
“You’re drunk,” I spat back, finishing my whiskey and jumping to my feet. I was not talking about masturbation with him, for fuck’s sake.
“That was the plan,” he replied lazily as I stumbled a little while grabbing my purse. “I gave you three shots, Katie. You’re not driving.” Without any warning, he grabbed the purse from my hands and threw it across the room.
“Don’t throw my shit! You probably broke my phone, you dick!” The words felt thick in my mouth, and I immediately regretted having anything to drink.
I didn’t want to be stuck in a room, drunk, with an equally drunk Shane. I loved everyone when I was drunk—I knew that about myself. I was emotional, and over-the-top, and everything that I tried so hard to suppress since I’d lost my best guyfriend in my freshman year of college. Maybe the hotel had another room to rent that wouldn’t completely obliterate my food budget for the week. Losing clients so I could take care of the kids had left me a little tight on cash.
“You’re not going anywhere. Don’t be stupid,” Shane grumbled, grabbing my arm as I tried to get to my purse.
“You’re stupid!”
“Mature, Katie.”
“Don’t call me Katie! Only my friends call me Katie, and you are not my friend,” I argued, scrambling to move past him.
“We should have been friends,” he said quietly into my ear as he caught me from behind and crossed my arms over my chest.
“We were friends, until you threw me away like garbage!” I yelled, kicking back at his legs.
“Stop fucking kicking me!”
“Let go!”
We wrestled for dominance, tripping our way around the room, and if my mind had been a little clearer, I would have stopped whatever was happening. But I was frustrated, and mad, and drunk, and wrestling around seemed like a completely rational decision then.
“You’re drunk!” he yelled, finally pinning me on the bed with my arms above my head. “You’re not getting into a fucking car!”
“You’re not the boss of me!”
“The fuck I’m not!”
“The fuck you are!”
“What?”
“Get. Off!” I bucked my hips and pulled at my arms, but it was no use. Even drunk, Shane was still ten times stronger.
“I just wanted to get drunk in peace,” he said, leaning down until we were nose-to-nose. “Why do you always have to step in like Florence fucking Nightingale? Huh?”
“Why do you always have to be such a douchebag and need saving?” I yelled back. We were breathing heavy, and I could feel sweat forming from our wrestling match.
“I don’t need you to save me. I never needed you to fucking save me,” he growled back, his eyes searching my face. “That’s what you never understood. You just kept pushing and pushing.”
I felt a lump forming in my throat as I thought about our past and turned my head to the side. I could feel tears forming in the corners of my eyes, and I couldn’t stop them from rolling down the sides of my face.
“Fuck you,” I whispered, my body finally going limp. “Fuck you, Shane.”
“Don’t fucking cry,” he ordered, his hands tightening on my wrists. “Don’t!”
I ignored him, keeping my eyes closed as I felt him breathing heavily above me. I was so embarrassed that I just wanted to disappear.