Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Josh Henderson stands right before me, looking at me as though I’m the last person he ever expected to see.
Crap. My eyes cut across to Brooke but she’s way too drunk to even notice what’s right in front of her face.
This is a football party and Josh used to play. Of course, he’d be here trying to get in with all of the players. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
The shock quickly wears off his face and is soon replaced with a quickly spreading grin. He scoffs as he walks forward and every muscle in my body tenses, ready to either run or throw down, but it doesn’t come to that as Josh simply walks past me, looking as though all his Christmases just came at once.
Shit, I’m definitely going to have to tell Nate about this and he is not going to be happy that I’ve kept it from him.
Brooke nudges me, wondering why the hell I’ve stopped in the middle of the doorway and I stumble on through it. I take her out to the street and lead her down to Jackson’s Charger, hoping I can distract her enough that she doesn’t realize what the hell I’m doing. I grab my phone and see three missed calls from Nate and a few texts from Jesse wondering where the hell I am. I ignore them and shoot off a quick text to Jackson.
Tora – We’re out the front. Can you take us home?
Jackson – K. Give me a sec.
We wait for all of thirty seconds before Jackson comes jogging down the street, unlocking his car so we can start getting in. I open the door for Brooke and she groans, looking longingly back up at the party. “I’m not ready to go,” she demands.
“I want to get ice cream,” I tell her.
Her whole demeanor changes and she practically dives into the car with me cheering behind her for a job well done.
Jackson reaches us and I explain that we have to stop for ice cream and because this was all his idea, he’s shouting us. He rolls his eyes and eventually agrees.
Ten minutes later, Brooke is sitting happily in the car beside me, licking her ice cream when she realizes Jackson is driving back towards our place. “What are we doing?” she demands. “I want to go back. Lukas was going to take me back to his place.”
“You don’t want to do that,” I groan.
“And why the hell not?” she argues, looking at me as though I’m the worst kind of traitor.
“Because he’s a douche. Just come home with me and we can talk about it tomorrow.”
“No,” she grunts. “I want to talk about it now.”
“Come on, Brooke,” I sigh as my eyes flick up to Jackson’s to see him watching us in his rearview mirror like a tennis match going back and forth.
“What’s your problem?” she asks. “Are you threatened by me having someone else in my life? Are you jealous?”
“What? No.”
“Then what is it? Why are you trying to keep me away from him? Don’t act like I don’t know what you were doing tonight. Every time he came close you pulled me away. I had to sneak off to see him most of the night.”
“Brooke,” I groan. “Please, let’s just talk about it tomorrow.”
“Fuck, Tora. Grow some balls and just say it.”
“Fine,” I groan, suddenly not feeling like eating this ice cream. “He hit on me in the kitchen last night right after he finished with you.”
“Bullshit,” she snaps, fixing her lips into a tight, unimpressed line. “He went to pee and came straight to bed.”
“Are you kidding me right now?” I gasp, wide eyed. “He peed, came out and got a bottle of water, asked me to screw him, and then went to bed.”
She shakes her head at me, watching me with nothing but a deep betrayal in her eyes. “You’re lying,” she says. “What we have is real. I feel it, Tora. Why can’t you let me be happy?”
“I do want you to be happy, just not with him. He’s a player, just like Max and you’re setting yourself up to get hurt,” I practically yell at her. “He said he wanted a threesome with us. Roommates and best friends. The ultimate fantasy.”
“Jackson, let me out,” she demands.
“Hell, no. It’s the middle of the fucking night. Just keep scowling at each other for two more minutes.”
“Jackson,” she yells.
“NO,” he yells back. “I’m not letting you get gang raped or jumped in the middle of the fucking street because you have the shits with your best friend. That won’t be on my conscience. Let me take you home and you two can have it out once I’m gone.”
She groans and sits back in her seat, just staring at her melting ice cream.
Shit.
“Brooke,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry, it’s just-”