Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
I don’t know if Santiago said something to Kendrick, but my probation ended a month early. Although I could have gone on an immediate bender, I’ve not touched a drop of alcohol or snorted a line of coke since my arrest. I’m slowly learning I can own up to my mistakes without using drugs and alcohol as a crutch.
It’ll just take a little while longer to implement that logic for things that happened outside of my control.
I won’t lie. Santiago’s admission at the start of a meeting on New Year’s Eve knocked me for a six. Did it bombard me with enough courage to stick around and hear the remainder of his story? No, it didn’t. But it has had me pondering other things the past month and a half. Like why do I get jealous about a guy cozying up to a girl I have no claim to?
Jess isn’t mine, but no matter how many times I tell myself that, my eyes continually stray to the dance floor where she’s spent the past several hours dancing with a range of men. I could say it is because I understood what her dad meant when he said I protected her, but that would be a lie.
Other than a brief recollection of Jess’s glistening eyes peering up at me, I am at a lost as to how she was involved in the incident that got me arrested—excluding the fact she got me off charges, obviously.
Too damn nosey for my own good, I ask Octavia, “Who is the guy Jess is dancing with?”
I, along with half the bar, noticed Jess’s entrance four hours ago. Excluding Octavia, she was alone but appeared ready to mingle. Now, a guy with dark hair and gang-related tattoos weaved along his arms is cozying up to her back as if they’re on an intimate date for two.
“Ah…” Octavia peers over her shoulder for a couple of seconds before returning her eyes to me. “I don’t know. He asked her to dance, she said yes. They appear to have hit it off, though.” I thought I hid my groan in the deep tremble of the club beats, but it seems as if that isn’t the case when Octavia adds, “If you have an issue with her dancing with another guy, Caleb, maybe you should do something about it.”
I scoff at her. “Why would I have an issue with her dancing with a douche?”
Octavia shrugs. “I’m clearly not a relationship expert.” She gestures her hand around herself, oblivious to the number of thirsty eyes on her before saying, “But you seem a little jealous.”
My chuckles break over the head-thumping DJ music. “I don’t get jealous.”
She makes an immediate liar of me. “Then I suggest you stand really close to the speakers before you leave tonight as that may be the only way you’ll drown out the bang-bang-bang noise that may or may not come out of Jess’s apartment all… night… long.”
With her smile uncontained, she commences her slow return to the dance floor.
I try not the nibble at the bait she threw out, but I only last three seconds, if that.
“Tiv.”
Her hair slaps her red face from dancing the night away when she twirls around to face me, but she remains quiet, forcing me to show my hand first.
“Tell Jess to drink some water. Her ratio is way off.”
Through twisted lips and narrow eyes, she replies, “I’ll suggest that to her…”
I think I have a win.
I’m sadly mistaken.
“… when you admit you’re jealous.”
My pfft sends spit sailing through the air. “I’m not jealous.”
“Okay.” She gives in way sooner than predicted, and a reason for that is exposed when she adds, “Then leave her alone because neighbors don’t have opinions on their neighbor’s private life.”
“Tiv—”
Her hand shoots into the air to wave me goodbye. “Goodnight, Caleb.”
I work my jaw side to side when the drink I just mixed for her before covering it with slinky cover to lessen the chance of her drink being spiked is handed to Jess a second after she returns to the dance floor.
Jess downs it way too fast not for it to rush to her head, and the knowledge has me telling Lewis I’ll be back in a minute.
“I won’t be long,” I promise the female patrons who whine when I step past them. They’re as touchy-feely as the guests at a bachelorette party, but they rarely get close enough to touch me since there is a big bar wedged between us.
Octavia grins like I walked straight into her trap when I tap Jess on the shoulder. Once she pops open her eyes, mine shoot daggers at Octavia. She is well past intoxicated. Her pupils are the size of saucers, and even with her mouth being closed, I can smell alcohol on her breath.
After giving Jess time to drink in my skin-tight bartender shirt with rolled-up sleeves, I nudge my head to the bar. “Can I talk to you for a tick?”