Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 157308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
“Can we please not pretend you flashing me your nudes is normal!”
She cracked up. “Relax, Little Miss Prudey Pants. I’m not shy. There’s a spot by Robin’s Point where we all go skinny-dipping. Almost everyone in my graduating class has seen me naked.”
“I’m going to bet they did not all see you do that.”
“By the way, who’s Joseph Collins?”
“He’s who you shout in a Catholic school instead of a certain person with the same initials. Unless you want to spend your weekend cleaning the chapel floor grout with a toothpick.”
“Ugh, you’re so repressed. You don’t know how lucky you are to have me in your life. I’ll fix you.”
I mumbled under my breath. “Does it matter at all that I don’t want you in my life?”
“Nope,” she sang, hearing me loud and clear. “I’ve gotta pee. Don’t move.”
Katie skipped off to the bathroom. I shot across the room as soon as the door shut.
Picking up her phone, I swiped off her Dean bat signal and pulled up her messages. Finding the group messages between her, Saylor, Everleigh, and the rest of them was easy.
Okay, I’d give it to her. I was lucky to have the Royal princess, Katie Langford, in my life. Who else would have the location, time, and all the details for the party ripe for the scrolling?
I tucked the information away, swimming along with my ideas for my ABC outfit. Fuck the no-Dregs rule, I was going to that party... and making it Owen’s last.
Chapter Four
Music poured out the front door, playing its tune for people sleeping on the other side of campus. For those on this side, they put every party I attended to shame and I hadn’t made it inside yet.
Multicolored lights decorated the frat house—flickering, strobing, flashing on the variety of outfits gracing the party. Couldn’t say how many of them made their own as opposed to hiring someone, but once again it was proof rich kids did things on another level.
Newspaper halter dresses. Playing card tops. Skirts made out of bendy straws. Shorts, pants, and tie out of black-and-white tape. One guy strolled up in a mess of colored condoms covering his bits. And of course, a parade of caution tape dresses led by Saylor Burkhardt.
I hung off to the side, watching Saylor, Everleigh, Piper, and Gabriella climb out of their town car—all dressed in caution tape and boasting different styles from long, short, two-piece and one-piece. Last to climb out of the car was Katie, carefully slipping out and unveiling what took five hours of my life.
The wrapper skirt flared out and fell to her knees while the bodice clung tight to enviable curves. Gracing her collarbone was a necklace made of Skittles with matching earrings.
She looked amazing—and she clearly knew it as the five of them glided into the frat house, collecting wolf whistles as they walked by.
I gazed at my outfit, fingers twitching against my thigh. A strange, buzzing energy claimed me the night before as I bought the mountain of cotton and lugged it back to my dorm. After all the waiting, planning, researching, bribing, and sneaking, it was finally time.
Lifting my chin, I made for the house, and the wolf whistles turned on for me. They would. I looked damned good.
Wrapped around my bits was mesh and glued to those were my mounds of cotton—fluffed around my body and formed into two clouds. Tucked beneath them, battery-powered twinkle lights flashed their lighting.
I did an even better job with my hair. It was sprayed and teased into a wild, wispy style as if blown in a storm, then sprinkled with glitter. Completing the outfit was a mask made of clouds, covering most of my face.
After seeing Katie’s outfit, I knew I’d need something wow to get me through the door. Anything less would give me away as a Dreg.
“Damn.” Condom Boy leaned against the doorjamb, raking me up and down. “Nicely done. Give us a little spin.”
I gave him a middle finger.
Laughing, he said, “What’s the word?”
“Trust fund.”
Access granted, he stepped aside, letting me into the party.
I took one step and jumped back, narrowly avoiding colliding with a band of hooting guys wearing nothing but empty cardboard beer cases to cover their bits.
A low whistle escaped me and smothered under the sound. Freshman Royals weren’t invited to the party, but the ban didn’t seem to apply to the upperclassmen. There were twenty-eight Royals in the sophomore class—I did my research—and a lot more than twenty-eight people dancing and spilling their beer in the living room, clogging up the stairwell, playing beer pong on the kitchen island, making out on the pool table, and taking the party outside.
All the better for me. With so many people around, no one would notice the cloud moving through the party who shouldn’t be there.