Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
No one to sympathize with me in this given moment.
Sighing, I slipped my cellphone back into my clutch and pressed my back against the bench, swiping my hands across my face. The center of my head still ached, my temples creating a heavy pulsing feeling whenever I pressed my fingertips to them.
Footsteps sounded from a short distance away and when I brought my head up, I saw a tall boy walking in my direction. The white button-down shirt tucked messily beneath the black vest gave him away as a waiter. He was most likely working in the banquet room.
I didn’t pay much mind to him. I stopped at his attire, not even bothering to look at his face. I dropped my hands and ran them across my thighs. The boy stopped in the middle of the hallway, and because I knew he was watching me, I frowned and looked up.
I was surprised by whom I saw.
“Holy shit,” Otto said, as he placed the tray of sweet teas on the table beside him and strode my way. “If it isn’t the girl my cousin is so obsessed with.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “He is not obsessed with me.”
Otto sat beside me, completely ignoring my irritated tone. “Oh, is that what you think? Trust me, that motherfucker is obsessed. Never seen him follow through with plans for a girl before.”
“That doesn’t make him obsessed. He was just being nice.”
“But he likes you.”
I waved a hand, dismissing the subject. I wasn’t in the mood to talk about Drake, not after the way he just left me last night. “I’m sorry… I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m not feeling too great right now. Drake is the last person I want to talk about.”
“Let me guess.” Otto folded his arms across his chest. “Hung over like a motherfucker, huh?”
I huffed a laugh. “First one ever. I always wondered what they felt like… now I regret wondering.”
“Yeah, it’s a bitch,” he laughed. “What are you doing up so early?”
I looked up into his blue eyes. It was then that I realized he had a cut on the corner of his bottom lip. What was it with these boys? Did they fight each other just for the hell of it? I knew Drake fought for money, but did Otto and Oscar do the same thing?
“I’m supposed to be with the party in there.”
“Shit’s boring as hell. Fucking books. Get that shit out of here.”
“I didn’t want to come.” I rubbed my forehead with the back of my hand, suddenly feeling like I was sweating. Yeah, it was official. I was never drinking this much again—maybe a piña colada here and there, but no beer and no more cheap, headache-making tequila.
“Damn.”
“What?” I asked, perking up a bit.
“You look like trash. You drank that shitty Mexican shit last night, didn’t you?”
My shoulders hunched again. “Thanks,” I muttered sarcastically. “And yes. It was all that was left besides the beer.”
“Hey, I bet I know what’ll cheer you up.” Otto straightened his back, a gleam in his eyes. I wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or wary by it.
“I’m pretty sure nothing can cheer me up right now.”
“Wanna bet?”
I thinned my eyes at him. “Bet on what?”
“Your lover boy is in the kitchen as we speak. He’s about to come out in a minute to serve up some pastries and shit.”
“Wait—you two work here? Doesn’t he work at some place called the Dirty Dawg Pit? Never heard of it, but that’s it, right?”
Otto looked at me, brows drawn together, but his lips tilted in an upward curve. “Fuck, Doom was right,” he chuckled. “You ask a lot of fucking questions, Pretty Jenny.”
“Call her that again and I’ll snap your neck.” A deep voice rose behind Otto and he licked his lips, grinning like a fool. He already knew who was there. There was no need for him to turn and face him.
“That motherfucker’s all talk,” he cackled, pointing back with his thumb. “He’s never laid a hand on me.”
I couldn’t help my wandering eyes when that familiar voice filled the corridor. Otto’s comment went over my head as I spotted Drake coming in our direction. Kylie’s hero, Oscar, was right beside him with a basket of biscuits.
Oscar put on a half-smile and tossed a wave. Drake looked me right in the eye but then his head dipped, eyes moving south.
Was that shame? Yeah. He was ashamed of me seeing him like this, in a waiter’s uniform, serving people.
Drake didn’t come across as the type to serve, but I remembered him saying he had to get a job to provide after dropping out. Maybe he meant two jobs. Maybe even three.
But who was I to judge? I would never shame him.
I started to stand, but he spoke, causing me to stop. “Don’t even try it, Snoop. You might as well sit. Keep moving too much and you’ll make that headache of yours worse.”