Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
He returned with a receipt for me to sign, and I scribbled a reasonable amount for a tip, I was pretty sure. Then I slipped off the seat and almost stumbled back, but I managed to grab on to the edge of the bar.
“Wait by your truck,” Sebastian instructed. “I’ll take you home.”
No. Christ—no. I had to get away from him. I shook my head and shrugged into my jacket. “Leave it. I’ll walk.” With a two-finger wave, I left the corner of the bar and headed outside.
Jesus. Walking wasn’t as easy as some people believed.
The cold air hit me as I stepped outside, and it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. Now I just had to take a piss. Barely any people around, so that was nice. Like my life. Fuckin’ empty. Oh, now I was really hosting a pity party for myself. Boardwalk empty, pier empty, marina empty, parking lot… The parking lot was closest. Unless I was gonna take a leak on someone’s restaurant window, and it’d been a while since I’d sunk that low.
The parking lot was framed by bushes that hadn’t lost all their leaves yet, so that was where I unbuckled my belt and unzipped my pants.
Glancing up at the night sky, I let out a breath that misted in the air.
Stars were out. Some clouds too.
“Blake!”
Aw, man.
“I’m’n the li’l boys’ room!” I yelled back.
By the time Sebastian reached the parking lot, I was zipped up again and struggling with my belt. Fuckin’ piece of…
“Who the fuck needs belts anyway.” I gave up, annoyed and impatient. “What do you want?” I asked him. “I don’t wanna hear any more shit. Drunks have feelings too—and we produce more stars.” I gestured toward the sky. “I bet I can see more than you can.”
His mouth twitched, but I didn’t know if it was his I’m-trying-not-to-laugh-at-you-boy kind of amusement or the evil little hint of a smirk that said he wanted to bash my head in. To be frank, it looked like a combination of both.
“Go back to work,” I urged. Then I draped my arms along the side of the bed of my truck behind me. “I’ll wait here by my truck until I’m sober enough to walk home.”
Had I grown taller tonight? It felt like it.
Sebastian pointed at my truck. “That’s not yours.”
“Huh?” I turned around and— “I’ll be damned.” Good thing I didn’t try to open the door. Mystery solved, too. No wonder I felt taller; this truck wasn’t as big as mine.
“Come on. I’ll take you home.” He nodded toward what I assumed was my actual truck.
Only a dozen or so cars remained in the parking lot that easily had room for forty or fifty, and I found my baby parked next to a rusty Corolla.
“Just gimme the keys,” I said. “I mean it—I’ll stay here for a while.”
I didn’t wanna breathe the same air as him right now. He was too hot, and I was drunk enough to push buttons I should steer clear of.
“Or you can stop being so fucking difficult and get in the damn truck,” he replied irritably. “You’ve been testing my patience all goddamn night, and I’m done. I’m driving you home, end of discussion.”
Something inside me snapped, and I couldn’t control it. Anger unfurled within me and caused me to implode so hard that my next breath hurt. He was done? No, I was done. I was fucking done being the bad guy all the fucking time.
“What part of gimme the keys do you not understand?” I demanded.
He shot me a glare. “I’m not having this argument when you’re three sheets to the wind. Get in the fucking truck—you gotta walk your dogs anyway. You have to get home.”
“And I told you I’ll walk!” I yelled. Now he was criticizing me as a dog owner too. He thought I didn’t know when my boys needed to go out? Screw him.
“I swear to Christ—” He cursed under this breath, then made a move to grab my arm.
I was having none of it. I ducked his hand, only to return and shove him away from me. He stumbled back, momentarily stunned I’d packed any strength at all, but then my element of surprise was gone. He came at me again, angrier than before, and slammed me up against my truck.
I groaned at the impact, and the pain spread down my spine. It made me fucking boil.
“I’m not telling you again,” he seethed. The telltale sound of my car alarm being deactivated reached my ears, followed by him ripping open the passenger side’s door. “Get in.”
“Fuck you,” I rasped. I summoned all the anger I had and managed to punch him in the jaw, to which he quickly countered with a fist to my stomach.
Oh God. I coughed and bowled over, dropping my hat in the process.