Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Chapter 17
CASSIE
Carter Waters is the biggest manwhore I’ve ever met. I’m beyond furious with him. I can’t believe these two, and now he has the nerve to look at me with a stupid grin. “What’d you expect?” he says with a shrug.
I see fucking red.
“Are you fucking serious, you . . . you manwhore! I hope you thoroughly enjoyed yourself because it won’t be happening again.”
“Well, yeah actually, I did enjoy myself. Thanks for asking,” he says, proudly. “I’m extremely satisfied. Why didn’t you tell me she was such a little firecracker? I would have been here weeks ago.”
“WHAT?” I yell at him, momentarily stumped as my jaw falls open. The audacity of this moron. “What?”
He gives me a lazy shrug before heading to the kitchen and coming out with a beer for himself and Jax, as though the moment calls for a celebratory drink. If only he knew his drinking buddy just railed me in a public park.
Turning my attention to Bri, I give her the look of death. “You. I should have known better,” I accuse as I storm right up to the little minx. “What do you have to say for yourself, you skank whore?”
“Hey,” she laughs. “This is all your fault.”
Jaxon’s laughter in the background has me slipping closer to the edge. “How the hell does this STD fest have anything to do with me?”
“You left your phone here. He called. I answered. It’s simple really,” she explains, falling on the couch beside Carter.
“Oh my God. You two have some serious making-up to do,” I demand.
“Righteo,” Carter scoffs.
“Argh,” I groan with frustration as I flop into a chair that’s well away from everyone, cross my arms over my chest and sulk, happily picturing how good it would feel to nut punch Carter. Something fluffy rubs against my legs, and I stand back up to find my dressing gown draped over the couch.
“Oh my God, Carter Waters, if you were wearing my dressing gown after your sweaty sexcapades, you can bet your life there’ll be an ass-kicking in your near future.” I shiver, picking the gown up by as little material as possible and throwing it in the laundry. That thing is going to receive the most thorough laundering of its life before it ever touches my body again.
They ignore me as they question Jax about what the hell is going on between us, and I snatch the beer out of Carter’s hand on my way back to the couch. He doesn’t deserve one tonight.
“Oh, hey,” I hear Jax pipe up a few minutes later, glancing at my brother. “While you’re here, can you give me a hand with something?”
Carter mumbles a quick yeah and they get up and head out to Jax’s truck. My eyes narrow on their retreating bodies, having absolutely no idea what Jax could be up to. I’m not left wondering for long though as they march back in a moment later, their arms piled high with all my recording stuff, keyboard and everything.
Panic tears at my chest as I stare at the boys. “Um, what do you think you’re doing?” I question as Bri’s face scrunches in confusion.
“I’m setting this shit up,” Jax responds. “Where do you want it?”
“I don’t want it,” I snap.
He ignores me and makes the executive decision to take it through to the dining room.
Bri comes up beside me and looks at me with narrowed, curious eyes. “Why the hell is Jax setting up a recording studio in our dining room?”
With a sigh, I leave her gaping at the boys and grab my laptop. I take a seat at the table and invite her to sit next to me while the boys continue their work. I power up my laptop and jump straight to YouTube, typing in my name and finding the page I haven’t visited for three long years.
Turning it toward her, I watch as she gapes at the screen, taking in the countless videos and the three hundred thousand followers.
“Explain,” she demands as she begins to scroll.
Sighing, I let it all out. “I’m a bit of a singer. Or at least, I used to be,” I tell her, getting a well-deserved scoff from each of the boys. I ignore them and continue with my explanation. “Growing up, I was always singing, so Mom threw me headfirst into music lessons. I loved it, it’s one of my few passions. So, when I was about fourteen, I started recording—”
“Fuck,” she screeches, cutting me off. “You have half a million followers.”
“Really? Last I checked there was only half that.”
She lets out an impressive scoff, and I get back to my explanation. “As I was saying, I started recording some covers and Jax created a YouTube page and started posting them, even though I had absolutely no idea.”
“Ha,” she laughs. “Typical man.”