Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I fumble around, finding it tangled in my sheets. “What?” I answer, without even checking the screen. My voice sounds rough as fuck, like I smoked eighty packs of cigarettes last night, and I clear my throat.
“Wake up, fucker,” says Dare, my sister’s boyfriend.
“What time is it?” I scrub a hand down my face.
“Noon. Your sister needs you at Blackbear. One of her servers quit and Sutton’s out of town.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Because she needs your help,” Dare says in that calm, yet menacing tone of his. “You owe her this at least.”
I roll my eyes, knowing this is Dare’s way of forcing us to patch things up. I haven’t talked to my sister since storming out of their house. We’re both stubborn as fuck, but our wars don’t usually last long. In a life full of chaos and drama, Lo has been the one constant. It’s always been us against the world. When we’re at odds, everything feels off-kilter. I weigh my options. I could tell him no and keep this beef going. Or I could do her a solid and use this as a way to clear the air. Plus, I can’t pass up the opportunity to fuck with Allison if she happens to be there. Unless she’s the one who quit.
“Time?” I grumble.
“Now.” Then he hangs up. Yeah, he’s pissed at me.
I stub out my blunt and snatch a towel from the back of a computer chair. I head for the shower, ignoring the voices trailing from downstairs. There’re always stragglers after a big party, and this morning is no exception. I take a piss, rubbing a hand across my chest as I take in my reflection. I have neon paint, lipstick, and glitter coating every inch of my torso. I jump into the shower and scrub that shit off in record time. I throw on a pair of black jeans and a white tee, then walk downstairs, taking the steps two at a time.
I take the last drag of my cigarette before putting it out in front of Blackbear. I’ve been stalling, but I have to face Lo sooner or later. She’s going to question me about where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing in between leaving school and coming here. I fucking hate lying to her, but I can’t tell her that. She wouldn’t understand. It’s the one area in which we’ve never seen eye to eye.
I push the door open, walking straight through the crowded dining area to the kitchen. A frazzled Lo stops in her tracks when she sees me, a tray in each hand, lopsided ponytail, and hair in her face. She cocks her head to the side. “What are you doing here?” she asks, suspicion lacing her tone.
“Dare said you needed help,” I supply. I should’ve known he didn’t tell her. Lo has way too much pride to ask for help. There’s no way she’d let Dare do it on her behalf.
“Well, he lied. You can go back to your downward spiral, or whatever the fuck it is that you’re doing.” She doesn’t give me a chance to respond before she walks away, dropping plates off at her tables. When she comes back to the kitchen, I see a flash of hurt in her eyes, and I know I put it there. It’s the main reason I didn’t come back to River’s Edge right away.
I clear my throat. “I’m sorry, okay? I fucked up.”
She appears to weigh her options before her shoulders sag. She closes the distance between us and pulls me in for a hug, and I squeeze her back for a second before we both let go.
“You’re an idiot.”
“I know.”
“We’re going to talk about this later.”
“I know,” I repeat.
She tosses me a rag before turning around to grab a big gray tub, then shoves it into my abs. I grunt, curling my fingers around the sides.
“Now go bus some tables.”
* * *
“APPARENTLY, THESE EGGS WERE SUPPOSED to be over easy,” I say, pressing up on my toes to see through the pass-through window into the kitchen. “Sorry, Pete.” I wince. The lady at table seven ordered scrambled, but changed her mind, and Grumpy Pete’s the only one back here, cooking for a full house.
“Not what the ticket says,” Pete grumbles.
“I know. I’m sorry,” I say again.
“Yeah, yeah.”
I tap my fingers against the counter, keeping my body close to the counter in the narrow walkway to let the other servers by. I feel heat against my back, and before I can react, a low “boo” is whispered into my ear. I lean forward as much as I can, jerking my head to see who I already know is behind me.
“Jesse,” I greet, my voice flat.
“Try to contain your enthusiasm, Allie Girl.” He smirks down at me. He smells like a distillery mixed with lingering traces of smoke, but there’s a faint, familiar scent underneath it—his soap or maybe his shampoo. It takes me back to the night at the dorm, and an image of his mop of dark hair nuzzling against my chest and my nipple in his mouth pops into my mind, unbidden. I push it away, along with the embarrassment that never ceases to follow whenever I think about it.