Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Things took a turn when we tried to tell them to rethink the last two shots of fuck knows what kind of cheap ass liquor, knowing it would send them past the point of no return. Shayne laughed in Thayer’s face, throwing the shot back before he could finish his sentence. Valen followed suit, and then they both ran off like a couple of bank robbers. That was about ten minutes ago.
“Guess we should go find them,” Thayer says.
“We?” I ask, raising a brow. “That’s boyfriend duty. I’m just the brother,” I joke, not wanting to seem too eager to help. Thayer already suspects something’s going on between Valen and me. I need to reel it in.
“The sooner we find them, the sooner we can get out of here.”
“Good point.” This is the last place I want to be after today.
I follow him upstairs, pushing through the clusters of drunken bodies. There’s a line like earlier, but this time, a couple of girls are pounding their fists against the door, yelling at whoever’s in there to hurry while another girl crosses her ankles, hands clutching her crotch as she bounces around like she’s trying not to piss herself.
“Ah fuck,” I mutter, knowing that’s exactly where they are. The girls at the door move aside when we get there. I raise my fist, knocking hard, yelling for them to open up. I put my ear to the door, listening for any indication that it is, in fact, Shayne and Valen. Nothing.
The door is locked when I jiggle the handle, but it’s one of those janky ass locks that can be opened by sticking a coin in the slot. I turn around, eyeing the girls lined up behind me. “You,” I say, pointing at one of them with long fake nails. “Come here.”
She steps forward with a confused frown, but she doesn’t argue as I take a hold of her wrist and use her thumbnail to turn the lock. “Thanks,” I say, pushing the door open. Thayer and I both pause in the doorway, taking in the scene in front of us.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. Shayne’s made friends with the toilet bowl, her face way too close to the seat to be deemed safe in a frat house. Valen appears to be wetting a washcloth for her at the sink. Shayne reaches over, trying to pull herself up by the waistband of Valen’s jeans, except instead of pulling herself up, she ends up pulling Valen’s pants down, exposing her black thong. They both fall to the floor, cackling.
I stifle a laugh, looking over at Thayer who does the same.
“I’m going to pee my pants,” a desperate voice says behind me, snapping us into motion.
Bending over, I work Valen’s pants back up over her ass and hips, willing my dick not to react. “Upsy-daisy,” I say, scooping her up into my arms as Thayer peels Shayne off the floor and tosses her over his shoulder.
“All yours,” Thayer says to the girl who doesn’t wait for us to close the door before pulling her dress up and sitting her ass on the toilet.
Twenty minutes later, we’re pulling into the student parking lot with two bags of mostly uneaten fast food that Shayne insisted on stopping for before promptly passing out in the back seat of Thayer’s Hellcat. When we open the back door, they’re both asleep. Shayne’s slumped against Valen with a lap full of French fries, while Valen’s head rests on top of Shayne’s.
“Like herding fucking cats,” I say.
“Wake up, baby,” Thayer says, pulling Shayne upright. “Where the hell are your shoes?”
“I don’t want to go home,” Shayne groans, without opening her eyes or answering his question.
“We’re already here. Let’s go inside.”
She shakes her head. “I was having fun.”
“We can still have fun,” he says. “If you come inside, we can watch Criminal Minds.”
She peels one eye open, squinting up at him. “Really?”
He nods.
“Can you take off my makeup, too?”
Valen, who has apparently woken from her slumber, laughs at that.
“Deal,” he says, bending down to lift her out of the car.
Bracing my hand on the roof of the car, I lean down to look at Valen. The strap of her shirt hangs off her shoulder, her hair is wild, eyes glassy, nose red from the cold, and she’s still the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen. “Do you need to be carried, too?”
“I can walk,” she says, scooting toward the edge of the seat instead of opening the door she’s closest to. She takes the hand I hold out for her, letting me help her out of the car. She gets a few wobbly steps in before tripping over her own feet. I catch her before she goes down, steadying her at the waist. She lets me help her to her room, which is a testament to how drunk she is because accepting help is not something Valen knows how to do.