Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 147136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 736(@200wpm)___ 589(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 736(@200wpm)___ 589(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Tori sighed and looked at the ground beside the couch.
“Okay, but you’re gonna be missing out on seeing Shay and Stitch together for the first time outside of work …”
“What?”
Her eyes sliced to mine.
“Stitch and Shay are making their debut appearance together as a couple at this thing?” I asked, building height on my knees and letting the quilt slide down my back.
They weren’t a couple. Not officially, and if you asked Shay or had the nerve to ask Stitch, she denied it and he ignored you, but Kali, Tori, and myself all knew better.
They were totally into each other.
“Sort of,” Tori replied, her shoulder lifting with a jerk. “Shay invited him and she’s hoping he shows. I’m thinking since this is the first time she’s invited him to anything and he’s probably been chomping at the bit waiting for such an invite, he’s gonna show.”
My decision was made. I knew I couldn’t miss an opportunity like this for the world.
I sprung from the couch and let the quilt fall to the floor.
“Okay, I’m in, but I’m not changing,” I told Tori, tugging on the bottom of my hoodie. “I’m not going to impress anybody so I don’t see the point.”
She grinned big.
“You look super cute and comfy in that so I agree, don’t change.”
“Great.”
“But maybe comb your hair a little.” She cringed through her suggestion. “It looks like rats were building a nest in the back.”
My eyes widened as I reached back and felt the tangled mess Tori was referring to.
I could barely feel my scalp.
Needless to say, I combed my hair before we left for the party.
* * *
Tori was right. Jamie’s beach house was ridiculous, at least from what I could tell from the outside.
It had to be the size of at least three of her houses, and in my eyes, Tori always had the best of the best.
This was crazy big.
And absolutely stunning.
Two stories and right off the beach, so close you could hear the waves crashing—it was like having your ear pressed to a seashell—the house looked front cover of a magazine worthy or something you’d rent for the weekend with twenty of your friends.
A gorgeous wraparound porch made of white worn wood seemed to be the home for multiple multicolored surfboards, all propped against aged earthy green siding and, above it, another porch for the second level, this one acting more like a deck for the front of the house.
I couldn’t imagine having my own deck access from my bedroom. I was just thrilled to have a window facing the ocean.
The driveway was filled with vehicles, and so was the yard, for that matter. People had pulled right off the road and onto Jamie’s half-sand, half-grass terrain, including Tori, who drove us.
I followed her up the front steps and inside, the door swinging open freely. Bodies filled the wide-open entryway. The house somehow appeared bigger on the inside, with rooms off to the right and left, one looking like an office I imagined didn’t see much use and the other possibly a formal dining room, except in place of a standard table, a pool table sat in the middle of the floor.
A game was going on while girls in bikini tops and jean cutoffs danced to some bass-heavy tune off to the side, dropping low and popping their hips.
I was slightly overdressed in my hoodie and leggings but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t planning on dropping low or popping anything.
Straight ahead was an extra-wide staircase leading up to the second level. You could walk around it and enter another part of the house, which was the direction Tori was headed as I followed close behind her.
“Is Shay here yet?” I yelled over the music as we walked past a speaker, tugging on Tori’s wrist.
“She texted when we got here. Stitch stood her up so she isn’t coming.”
I halted in the hallway, which in the process halted her.
“You got a text before we left the house. Not five seconds ago,” I pointed out through a hiss.
Tori turned her head to look at me.
“Same difference,” she said, smiling a little.
Damn it!
“Tori!”
God, I could kill her. She knew I didn’t want to come to this.
Tori twisted her arm, broke out of my hold, only to grab my elbow and give it a jerk, pulling me behind.
“Come on, Syd. You needed to get out of the house anyway. You were starting to attach to the furniture.”
“I was not,” I snapped but I did it weakly.
I kind of was. Or at least I was on my way to attaching to the Christmas quilt. I was starting to drag that thing around everywhere like Linus with his blanket.
We moved around the staircase and stepped into a large room that seemed to span the length of the house, with floor-to-ceiling windows giving view to another deck that also ran the length. A huge, open kitchen was off to the left, one I was certain Martha Stewart would cut a bitch for. It was gorgeous even from a distance. I thought I spotted two ovens, two ovens, before my eyes moved through the rest of the room, occupied mostly by a large seating area—a comfy-looking sectional and two recliners facing a giant flat-screen TV mounted above a fireplace.