Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
By the time the song ends, I’m panting. “I need a drink!”
As I lead Emmy to the kitchen, which is substantially less packed than the rest of the house, I ask her what she’s drinking.
She eyes the many alcoholic options before saying, “Water.”
Surely, I didn’t hear her right. We’re at a college party and she wants… “Water?”
Her cheeks burn crimson. “Yup. I don’t drink.”
That tracks with everything else I’ve learned about her, so I let it go. “Cool. Let’s ask the guy manning the keg where to find you some water.”
“Hello, ladies,” he says directly to our chests. “Two?”
“One.” I pass him my cup and bat my mascara-coated lashes and ask him where we can find Emmy some water. “Preferably sealed in a bottle.”
He passes me back my cup, now filled with what is undoubtedly cheap beer. “Check the sink.”
“You wanna check out the rest of the party while we hydrate?”
“Um.” Emmy smirks. “I’m the only one hydrating.”
I roll my eyes, loving this show of sass. “Same difference.”
We make a loop around the house, and I swear on all that I hold dear, this frat party is every pop culture stereotype come to life and I love it.
By the time we make it back to the living room, my cup is empty and my hips are swaying. I run a hand through my hair and shimmy my body to the beat, loving the freedom being here brings. There’s no way I could’ve ever cut loose like this in high school.
Someone would’ve called Orion, and he would’ve gone all mama bear on me, like the overprotective fun-sucker he is.
With my first taste of alcohol rushing through me, I’m really feeling myself and moving to the music like I’m about to work a pole.
I jolt at the feeling of a strong arm wrapping around me. Before I can say anything, I’m hauled back against the owner of the arm. I’m about to give him a piece of mind—that is, until I see him.
He’s definitely handsome, with his dark features and chiseled jaw, but… he’s no Samson. No, Stella! We’re not thinking about him—the jackass still hasn’t replied to your text.
“I’m going to be right over there!” Emmy yells, gesturing vaguely to the wall behind us. “I won’t leave. You don’t either.”
I nod as I grind back into Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome.
We dance for two songs before he leans in and asks me my name.
“Stella.”
“Ella?”
“No, Stella.”
He nods, his scruff grating against my neck before twirling me around to face him. Dancing with him is fun; easy and mindless, but thoughts of Samson keep creeping their way into my brain.
Thoughts of how much better his hands would feel on my body.
“Don’t you wanna know my name?” He wedges one of his thighs between mine. “You’ll need to if you’re gonna scream it later.”
And just like that, I’m out. I stop dancing and push against his chest. “I need to check on my friend. Kthanksbye.” I turn and run before he can say anything else.
I head for where Emmy said she’d be, but I don’t see her anywhere.
“Where is she?” I mutter to myself, my skin pricking with panic. “She said she wouldn’t leave.”
And then I see her, slumped over on the dirty floor. “Emmy! Oh my God! Emmy, are you okay?”
Her head flops to the side like her spine’s suddenly made of spaghetti.
“Did you take something?” Her glassy, unseeing eyes send a fresh spike of fear through me. “What’s wrong? We need to get you out of here,” I tell her, but she’s too far gone to answer.
A random guy stops to ask if she’s okay, and even though it’s risky, I ask him to keep an eye on her while I call for help.
Except… who do I call? My parents would kill me. Orion would kill me, reanimate my corpse and kill me again. Which only leaves one person…
I swipe through my contacts until I find his name, swallow my pride, and hit dial.
Please God, let him pick up.
Chapter Thirteen
Samson
“Grab us a booth and I’ll get a pitcher,” Orion says as we walk into our favorite local haunt—Bandits.
It’s a shack of a place that’s been here since the dawn of time. Its age shows too, but the music is loud, the food is good, and the drinks are cheap, so we come.
“Sounds good, man.” I secure a table near the back door.
The bar’s packed a few people deep, so I slide out my phone and settle in to wait on Orion.
I’m half-tempted to text Stella, but she went radio silent after I accepted her invitation to see her greenhouse in person.
I don’t know if she regretted asking me or what, but fuck—I didn’t think she’d ghost me. It seems like we’re the definition of one step forward and two steps back.
It’s bullshit. I don’t want to play games with her. She means too damn much, but the walls she’s built around her heart are as tall as the mountain we live on.