Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 124451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
She flies up off the sun lounger beside me, water dripping from her body, and immediately starts ripping into Ari while Ilaria sees her chance and swoops into Chanel’s vacated seat. “That’s more like it,” Ilaria says, tearing off her tank and leaning back to sunbathe in her black string bikini.
Realizing I have absolutely no say in the matter, I collect all my books before Arizona decides to drown them in the pool and slink away to the kitchen. I dump my work on the island table before rummaging through the fridge. After grabbing the lemonade and fruit juice, I reach up to the higher cabinets and grab the bottle of vodka. If we’re doing a pool day, then we’re doing it right.
Balancing everything—plus cocktail glasses and fancy straws—I make my way back out to the pool and Chanel hurries to help me before I accidentally trip and ruin it for everyone. We get busy mixing drinks, and I hand one to Ari as she stands at the pool’s edge. “Here you go, Mag.”
She winks as she takes the drink from me, her tongue poking out to try and catch the straw as it circles the rim of the glass. “Thanks, Marge,” she says, her tone full of laughter. “Kinda has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? Mag and Marge.”
I drop down beside Ilaria as she scrolls through her socials, already sipping on her drink. “Please,” she scoffs. “Mag and Marge? Those names make you sound like the knock-off version of Kath and Kim in your matching tracksuits, muttering under your breath about the punk kids running amuck in the streets because, back in your day, the children were disciplined and knew that when the streetlights came on, it was time to head home.”
Arizona holds her glass up toward Ilaria. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Illy. If you wanted a cool name, all you had to do was say so,” she says. “But unfortunately for you, that ship has sailed and all you’re left with are the rejected names.”
“Dare I ask what they are?” Ilaria says, rolling her eyes as Chanel drops down beside the pool, playing on her phone as her feet dangle in the cool water.
Ari grins and I can only imagine what’s about to come spurting out of her mouth. “Your choices are Whack-A-Mole, Cuntasaurus, or Pussy Juice. Take your pick.”
Ilaria thinks hard and long about it, her lips pressing into a firm line. “If I go with Pussy Juice, can I be PJ for short?”
“Absolutely.”
Ilaria grins wide. “PJ it is then.”
A laugh bursts from between my lips. “Cheers to that.”
“Wait,” Chanel says, holding up a hand. “I’m claiming Cuntasaurus before that gets taken. I can’t be Whack-A-Mole, that doesn’t fit my aesthetic. But Cuntasaurus, now that’s what I’m talking about. Besides, Logan would agree that my lady tunnel deserves a strong, dominant name.”
Ari chokes back a laugh. “You mean, you want to name your pussy after an old, dusty dinosaur that’s been dead for millions of years … sounds about right to me.”
Chanel’s mouth drops as her eyes widen, realizing exactly where she went wrong. “No, no, no, that’s not what I meant. I changed my mind. I wanna be Whack-A-Mole.”
“Too late, Cunty. Addison is Whack-A-Mole from here on out. You made your decision and now you have to live with it,” Ari laughs. “Though, just between us girls, you better spruce up that dinosaur love muffin of yours before Logan decides he needs to find one with a pulse.”
“Oh, trust me,” Chanel says. “It’s got a pulse.”
“Speaking of Whack-A-Mole,” Ilaria says. “Where is Addison?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know, but at school today, I heard Hudson say something about wanting to talk to her about the way their relationship is progressing, so if anything, she’s probably locked in her bathroom, trying to avoid an awkward conversation.”
Arizona laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” she says before walking to the very edge of the pool, closest to the boundary line between the two houses. Her hands circle her mouth and not a moment later, the loudest squawk comes tearing from deep in her chest. “ADDISON MORGAN,” she hollers. “GET YOUR FINE ASS OVER HERE AND BRING A BIKINI. WE’RE HAVING COCKTAILS.”
I roll my eyes, unable to tear the grin off my face. “You could have just texted her.”
“Now what fun would that have be—”
“Ari?” a familiar voice calls from over the fence, cutting her off and making her eyes bug out of her head in fear. “Is that you?”
“Oh, fuck,” Arizona panics, desperately searching for an escape just as Jax’s head pops up over the fence, zoning in on her like a target, locked and loaded. “Oh, no, no, no, no, no,” she starts chanting, trying to rush through the water to get her ass out of there.