Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
I keep going, not wanting to get into it with this guy. It’s not worth it and really, he didn’t do anything wrong. How could he know my personal preference for the word? Besides, getting in his face now would be like adding salt to the wound. I’ve already stolen his lighter, I don’t want to be much more of a bitch.
I find an area that isn’t saturated with sweaty bodies drop down into the grass. I lean my back up against the brick wall of the house and prop my knees up. I seriously doubt this party is going to be any good so as long as I have my joint and my vodka, I should be alright.
As I uncap the bottle and bring it to my lips, a body falls down beside me. “Shitty week?” Nessa questions, taking in my vices that I hold tightly between my fingers.
“Uh-huh.”
She nods across the yard to Slade and I glance up, realizing I have the perfect view of him and I instantly hate it, despite how damn nice he is to look at.
“Geez,” she says, raising her brows. “Whatever you did must have been bad. I’ve never seen him like this.”
“Serious? Why does everyone keep assuming I did something?”
“Well, didn’t you?”
“I mean…yeah, but it’s not what everyone is assuming.”
“Really? Because we’re all assuming that you dropped your pants for Damian. At least, that’s the latest rumor.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I groan under my breath, bringing the vodka to my lips and taking another hit. I look over at her, hating the sting that comes as I tear my gaze away from my…ex. “How’s your whole turning over a new leaf bullshit going? Because right now, I’d suggest it’s not actually going so well.”
Nessa beams at me. “I’ll have you know that I’m doing quite well, thank you very much,” she says proudly. “Just yesterday I made things right with Kirsten Smithers.”
“The girl with the short, pixie hair?” she nods and I dare ask the question. “What did you do to piss her off?”
“Well,” she says with a slight smirk, clearly fond of her achievement. “We had senior camp a few months ago and I sort of put bleach in her shampoo and then her hair was all fucked-up and kept snapping. She had no choice but to cut most of it off.”
“Are you shitting me? That’s fucking brutal.”
“I know,” she cringes. “She was a bitch and talking shit so I took matters into my own hands. In hindsight, I probably should have thought that one through but either way, I apologized and am taking her to the salon to get her hair extensions tomorrow. It’s going to cost me a bomb but that’s the price I pay for being a bitch.”
“I’d hate to think what else you’ve done.”
She cringes. “It’s a long list, but I’m making my way through it.”
“It’s one thing being a bitch to hide your insecurities and keep the monsters away, but being a bitch just to be petty isn’t right. I’m glad you’re trying to better yourself. You’re proving me wrong about the girl I thought you were when I first started here, and let me tell you, that’s not an easy thing to do.”
“Um…thank you, I think.”
I roll my eyes and hand her the bottle. “Here,” I tell her. “Drink up. Rule number one of being my friend is drinking half the bottle so I don’t do the whole thing by myself.”
“I can get on board with that,” she tells me, pulling the bottle from my fingers and drinking it like water. As she brings the bottle back down, she leans back against the brick wall and smiles. “Ahh, that hit the spot.”
“How’s your skanking going?” I ask, looking down at the joint. “Become a dirty slut yet?”
“No,” she groans. “Everyone’s still afraid to touch me. They all sort of still see me as Slade’s even though they know he’s well…sort of with you, I guess.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah,” she scoffs. “You’re telling me. How am I supposed to whore around when these guys would rather wet their dicks with clingy bitches? I mean, aren’t they supposed to be down for no-strings-attached chicks like me?”
“You’d think,” I laugh, looking back at Slade to see Damian now perched beside him, desperately trying to gain his attention and continuously glaring at me when Slade ignores his attempts.
I groan and bring the joint to my lips before lighting it up which is the exact same moment that Slade glances over here.
Fuck me.
He’s never actually said that he doesn’t approve of me smoking, but from the way he turns up his nose and scowls every time it’s mentioned, his views on the topic are made crystal clear. Just as expected, he shakes his head as though I’m the most despicable woman he’s ever laid eyes on, and for this millionth time in the last eight days, it kills me.