Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
And trust me, she’s a master at the game. A twenty-three-year-old certified man-eater who has no plans of settling down anytime soon. Oddly enough, I admire her audacity. Admire her confidence and ability to put herself first in all situations. Admire her ability to go after what she wants, no matter what other people think of it.
If I were more like Avery, I probably wouldn’t give a shit about how absent my parents have been for most of my life or the fact that my father would rather buy my affection with expensive gifts and cash than show up. I probably wouldn’t be scared to show Beau how I truly feel about him.
The wealthy lifestyle is a privilege I don’t take lightly, but for a few simple things, I’d trade it all in a heartbeat.
“I think we need to dance,” Avery announces, and her boy toy David might as well be a puppy on a leash. His tail is practically wagging as he sidles up beside my best friend, raring to go.
“Then let’s go dance,” he says and wraps his arm around her waist, tugging her closer to his side and removing her arm from my shoulder in the process. It’s only then that I sort of get why Avery thinks he’s hot. His blue eyes have something alluring about them, and his willingness to jump at her every whim is unmatched.
“You want to dance with me?” Avery questions, fluttering her eyelashes.
“You haven’t ever seen moves like mine, baby,” David says, and I cringe. He’s hot, but he should say a lot less—maybe even nothing. He should just smile more, you know? Like people love to tell women.
“Hold that thought for, like, fifteen minutes, ’kay?” Avery says and kisses the tip of her index finger before pressing it to the corner of David’s mouth. “I need a little best-friend time with June. Be back.”
“Don’t keep me waiting too long, baby. My dick’s already a fucking bat,” David says, and I fight the urge to vomit in my mouth. All the baby usage and dirty talk is unsettling my stomach. I don’t know if I’m broken or something, but to me, all men but Beau Banks are creepy as fuck.
Avery responds by blowing him a kiss before grabbing my hand and dragging me out of the VIP section. She offers a flirty smile to one of the security guards working the VIP entrance stairs before guiding us into the crowd of dancing bodies.
Of the two of us, Avery has always been the lead partier. I followed her because I’d be flogged if I didn’t—even got pretty good at downing shots in college—but the more I go out, the more I end up in some weird internal crisis about what life has to offer other than this. Realistically, are parties and booze and money and fancy yachts and big mansions with the best ocean view going to be it for me?
Or is there more? Something better? Something real?
And how shitty of a person do I have to be to complain about how rich I am? I don’t want to be ungrateful, I swear. I know I’ve been afforded a million things that so many people do nothing but dream about. But I just…I don’t know. It all feels fucking shallow. Like there’s no substance or purpose at all.
It’s so complicated.
I sigh. See? Crisis.
Avery drags us to the middle of the dance floor, having no qualms about pushing people out of our way as she does, and doesn’t let go of my hand until she finds an open spot in the middle of the floor she deems worthy of our dance moves.
When we’re in the zone, we take up a lot of space, especially when Avery does her personal modification of a twerk. She calls it the “booty rizz,” and I don’t think we’ve been to a party or a club in the last five years where she hasn’t used it.
She shakes her ass, smiling over at me as she does, and I force myself to let go and vibe with the beat of the music. It’s not long before I’m fully immersed in the song, raising my hands in the air, and circling my hips. I lean my head back and can feel the swish of my long red locks on the bare area of my lower back.
Despite my reservations, it actually starts to feel good. I guess all that bullshit they tell you about moving your body being beneficial for your mind has some truth to it.
But Avery’s moves are a Miami mating call, and it’s not long before the vultures are circling. A big, muscular guy with a buzz cut and a toothy smile slides in beside me, and a tall guy with blond hair is now on the receiving end of Avery’s signature ass-grind. So much for David, I guess?