Total pages in book: 200
Estimated words: 189898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 760(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 760(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Houston hadn’t said a word after Braxton left us with our dicks in our hands…so to speak. He’d disappeared inside his room, and not long after, I heard the shower running.
Me, I was sitting at the kitchen island, rubbing my temples and contemplating our next move.
Not all of us had taken her rejection so calmly, though.
“Braxton Francesca Fawn, you open this goddamn door, right now!” Loren shouted as he pummeled her bedroom door.
“Damn it, Lo!” I snapped when my head began to throb out of control. “You know that’s not going to work, so sit the hell down.”
Loren looked at me, back to the door, and then me again before giving her door one last look and kicking it hard as hell.
Returning to the lower level, he dashed into the spare we shared and returned with his stash before rolling up. If nothing else, weed definitely mellowed him whenever he was off his fucking rocker.
“How the fuck is it that she still won’t talk to us?” he said after passing me the joint.
I shrugged as I brought it to my lips and inhaled. “Maybe it’s because she gave us the chance, and you chose to have sex with her instead?”
“Easy for you to judge when you already had her. Sue me. I was feeling left out.”
I shook my head as I regarded my best friend. He was the smartest idiot I knew. “You were better off not knowing how good she feels—at least until she’s done icing us out.”
“I really thought we were coming back for round two,” he admitted before chuckling bitterly. Me too. “I would have even been happy just getting to hold her.”
Laughing at Loren’s expense as he slumped in his stool, I eyed him. “I never took you for a sap.”
He shrugged while staring somberly at the granite countertop. “And I never thought you’d grow some balls, yet here we are.”
Since I was still holding his joint and knew it was the last of his stash, I tossed his shit in the sink and flipped the garbage disposal switch near my leg.
“What did you do that for?” he yelled. His mouth was open as he stared inside the sink in horror.
“Cuz you’re a bitch,” I said while standing up. I flipped the switch when I was sure there was nothing left. “And we agreed a long time ago to quit this shit. Nothing’s changed.”
“Everything’s changed,” he bit back.
I was already walking away from him, so I didn’t respond. I needed a shower, and even though cleaning up was the last thing on my mind, I was hoping it would distract me for a while. As soon as I was done, Loren hopped in, and I knew he’d be occupied for a while.
Motherfucker stayed in there for hours, it seemed.
As soon as I had finished dressing, I called Danielle, our assistant. After telling her what I wanted, I hung up.
It only took her an hour to get the things I needed, and after checking to make sure it was all there, I climbed the short stairs to Braxton’s room. It was quiet as hell on the other side, making me paranoid that she’d snuck out again. Knocking, I waited, and still, there was no sound. Had she fallen asleep?
I knocked again, and finally, thankfully, I heard her footsteps.
“Go away, Loren,” she whispered when she came and stood by the door.
“It’s Rich.” I didn’t like that she still hesitated instead of immediately opening her door. Two months ago, she would have welcomed me in with a smile I took for granted. When the door cracked, and I was staring into her big, brown eyes, I exhaled.
My relief was short-winded by her cold tone. “What do you want?”
“I want to apologize. I’ve been a jerk.”
“It’s fine,” she said in a tone that assured me it wasn’t.
“If that were true, you wouldn’t feel the need to keep this door between us. That’s my fault, and I want to make it up to you.”
When her brows dipped, I knew I had her curiosity, if not her forgiveness. Not yet anyway. “How?”
Unable to help my smile, I wordlessly held up the bag from the wig and costume store.
“You weren’t kidding!” Braxton exclaimed as she stood in front of the wax replicas.
I chuckled as she gaped at Houston’s likeness. He was the only one in our exhibit who wasn’t smiling. That was pretty goddamn accurate if you asked me.
When she was finally satisfied that it really wasn’t him, she moved to the one of me. I was standing next to Houston, wearing one of my hoodies, and holding a set of drumsticks—lip piercing, silver eyes with gold flecks, and all.
“It looks just like you,” she whispered so no one would overhear.
I was wearing a disguise too.
Braxton had laughed for ten minutes straight when I donned the brown Annie wig, sideburns, mustache, and black-rimmed glasses. I looked like the nerdy version of Jacques Grande from The Love Guru.