Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 67468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
That didn’t mean that I had to be unkind about it. Hence the reason I’d tacked on the ‘thanks.’
What I hadn’t expected was to run into the guy again at the bar after my ‘shift’ ended.
More accurately, Silvy had come to relieve me, and Karen, his partner that was spending a whole lot of extra time with him lately, talked me into grabbing a margarita with her at The Pierstraunt—a restaurant at the pier—because it was ‘women drink free Wednesday.’
Women didn’t actually drink for free. Women had to pay if they didn’t get their drinks bought for them by a random man. But usually, the bar owner would buy it for them if he was feeling kind and if no other guy picked up the tab.
Usually, if you didn’t feel like paying for a woman’s drinks, you steered clear of The Pierstraunt on Wednesday nights.
I usually did, too.
Mostly because I had an irrational fear that I’d go, and then Donny, the owner, would have to buy my beer because every man in the place thought I was ugly.
“Are you even listening to me?”
I looked over at Karen, who’d become a really great friend over the last few weeks, and shrugged. “Kind of. I’m worried about someone paying for my drinks.”
She snorted. “Honey, you’re gorgeous. Nobody is going to let you walk out of there paying for your drinks.”
I knew that I wasn’t ugly. But I didn’t agree with the ‘gorgeous’ part.
I had a too-full upper lip that gave me this always pouty expression, and my front teeth felt like they were too big at times. Though, my dad liked to call them movie star teeth—teeth that were always too bright and too big. As if they wanted to bring attention to how straight and perfect they were.
I had a bit of a belly and didn’t quite care that I did, seeing as I wore a bikini more than any other article of clothing that I owned.
Oh, and I had small boobs.
As in, almost non-existent.
I was a thirty-four AA, as in, possibly the smallest you could go and not be in the training bra section at Target.
My nipples looked obscenely big in comparison to my breast size, and don’t even get me started on my vagina. Sometimes, I felt like that thing was on steroids with how blatantly obvious it was in anything that had no structure to it.
I’d learned on the internet that it was called a FUPA—fat upper pubic area—a few years ago. Needless to say, I had plenty of things that I felt like were wrong with my body to make me not be ‘gorgeous.’
But didn’t every woman?
“I don’t know,” I hedged. “But anyway… shit.”
That ‘shit’ came out of my mouth right around the time we entered the parking lot of the restaurant and saw all the bikes lined up at the front of the lot.
I looked over at her. “Did you know they’d be here today?”
Karen blinked at me innocently. “Of course not.”
The liar.
“Of course not, my ass,” I countered.
She winked at me, as if I was now on board with her plan.
“I’m glad we could agree,” she teased and parked the closest she could get to the door. Which, admittedly, wasn’t very close. “Take that stupid cover-up off.”
The ‘cover-up’ she was talking about was actually Cassius’s sweatshirt.
Yeah, I’d definitely be taking it off. I didn’t want him to know that I’d been wearing it nonstop since he’d given it to me.
Or, more accurately, since he’d allowed me to keep it after his friend, Kobe, had.
“I’ll take it off,” I complained as soon as she was backed into her spot. “Keep your shirt on.”
She scoffed and got out, coming to a stand right next to my door as she waited for me to disrobe.
I didn’t have anything all that special on underneath it. A plain black T-shirt and a pair of jeans that I’d had since high school. They were a little on the tight side.
If I’d known that I would be seeing a certain someone, I would’ve put a little more effort into my appearance. Maybe put on some mascara. Possibly put on a pair of pants that didn’t make my back fat roll over.
“Are you done?” Karen asked, tapping on the window.
I got out, reluctantly stood and looked around, then said in a whisper, “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”
She smirked at me. “One of you is going to have to break first.”
Well, it wouldn’t be me. Not if I could help it.
“We’ll see,” I grumbled, closing the car door and heading toward the front door with dread following my every step.
Karen, seeing this, passed me with a laugh and threw open the door as if she owned the place.
Wishing I had her confidence, I followed behind her and only dragged my feet a little bit.