Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Sounds like a great plan, Bri,” I say with a sad smile. “But this is Jaxon Payne. Biggest manwhore on campus. He isn’t the same guy he used to be, and that’s my doing. Getting him back is not going to be as simple as that.”
“It is that simple, Cass. I think the old Jaxon is still in there, and I’m sure after the other night, there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s still in there. He’s just hurting, and he needs you to take it away.”
“You really think that?” I sigh, already knowing she’s right.
“Yeah, babe. I do.”
“I don’t know. I think it’s a lost cause. I’ve screwed up too much.”
“Look, the way I see it, you can sit around here, fucking around each week and avoiding him, or you can go out there and give yourself the best damn chance of getting your man back. Yes, you fucked up. Yes, he’s angry and hurt, but you have this chance to earn his forgiveness and make things right. Or would you rather regret it in ten years when you’re marrying Tom from accounting and having 2.5 kids?”
“Fuck you,” I groan. “Why did I have to go and move in with the one person who could make me see reason? This sucks.”
“So?” she asks slowly. “You’re going to fight for him?”
“Yes, I’m going to fight for him,” I say, mimicking her annoying voice and feeling like a complete dork saying it out loud.
Bri’s face lights up like the Fourth of July. “Oh, hell yeah,” she says, jumping up and running to the kitchen.
“If this backfires, I’m blaming you,” I call after her.
“Get stuffed. The only way this is going to backfire is if you screw it up again, and there’s no way in hell I’m about to let you do that. I’m telling you, that boy still loves you. It’s your job to make him realize it,” she says, coming out of the kitchen with a bottle of wine and a bag.
“What’s that for?” I ask, eyeing the booze and bag suspiciously.
“We’re going out this afternoon, and you’re going to need this,” she says, holding up the booze, “to make you do this.” A wicked gleam lights her eyes as she hands me the bottle of wine and starts digging through the bag. “We’re going to get your sexy on.”
“Ahh, what?” I ask in confusion.
“When was the last time you got screwed?” she asks, then adds, “And I’m not talking about the pounding you got from the man of the hour.”
I know she won’t give in until I answer her question, so I take a deep breath and confess. “A while,” I tell her. She looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “Okay, okay. A really long while.”
With a smirk, she pulls out two tiny black crop tops and the tiniest little schoolgirl skirts. I’m completely confused until she pulls out a matching pair of hooker heels. I let out a groan, but she beams up at me. “That’s right, bitch. We’re going pole dancing, and you’re going to remember what it feels like to be sexy. So, chug that wine and get dressed. We’re leaving in ten.” And with that, she disappears down the hallway and closes her door behind her.
Well, fuck.
Glancing down at the tiny clothes sitting on the coffee table, I let out a loud groan, hoping she can hear my frustration from her room. I crack the lid of the wine and take a big gulp. She was right, I’m most definitely going to need this.
Grabbing the clothes and the ridiculously high heels, I make my way to my bedroom and with another gulp of wine, I get dressed. After battling the ridiculous crop top for way too long, I stand in front of the mirror, the face staring back at me absolutely horrified. I look like a cheap whore. Just to add insult to injury, I put on the hooker heels and have to laugh. This is ridiculous.
Bri comes in at the sound of my laugh and gives me an approving whistle. I shake my head as I notice how her ass all but hangs out the bottom of the tiny schoolgirl skirt. “Oh, shut up. We look like a pair of hookers,” I say, taking another drink of wine, only to have it taken from my hand as Bri does the same.
“No,” she argues. “We look like a couple of badass bitches who are about to get you your man back.”
With a shake of my head, I pull a tank over the top and grab a pair of sweatpants before switching out the hooker heels for a pair of flip-flops. I stuff the heels into my bag and wait for Bri to do the same. “Ready?” she calls out from the kitchen.
“Yep,” I murmur, grabbing the bottle of wine off my bedside table and heading out to meet her before locking up the house.