Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“What are you guys drinking?” Zoe shouts over the loud music and even louder chatter.
We’re celebrating Alice’s birthday tonight. It’s been weeks since the funeral and a black cloud has been hanging over all of us. Everyone’s been in a funk, and it was Zoe’s idea to give Alice––who’s been carrying the burden of Reagan’s grief––a breather.
“How are you buying?” Alice shouts over the din. “You’re not twenty-one yet.”
Zoe smirks and waves her black Amex at a very fit and very sexy bartender. “You’re so funny. Not intentionally of course. I’ve had a fake ID since I was sixteen.”
“Isn’t t-that illegal?” I say, seriously worried. Am I abetting a crime? “D-Does that mean I-I’m an accomplice t-to this if you get caught? My father––”
A slim covered hand, fingers stacked with diamond rings, comes at me and covers my mouth. Zoe shakes her head as if I’m beyond help. “What are you drinking, Red? What’s your drug of choice? I’m going to let you speak and it better be the name of your favorite booze.” She peels her hand away.
“Diet Coke, please.”
I get an overly dramatic roll of her eyes. “Why am I not surprised.”
“Cut them some slack tonight, Z,” Blake chides.
“One shot and we dance! But you hookers are having one shot tonight. You too––” she aims at me. God help us, I pray no one heard her. “No excuses! I don’t want to hear about your perfect parents disapproving.”
“Fine,” I mutter. I’ve learned the hard way that she’s unstoppable when she gets that look in her eyes. No amount of arguing will change her mind.
“Four Red-Headed Sluts,” she orders from the bartender with a lot of heavy eyelashes-batting. Then she hands them out and we all raise our glasses. “To Alice. Happy twenty-first birthday and to many more.”
“And to friendship,” Alice adds, a bittersweet smile on her face. There’s a glassy sheen to her dark brown eyes, and in reflex, mine get wet too. Going by Blake and Zoe’s faces, all of us are feeling it.
“To us!”
“I don’t know how I would’ve survived this year without you guys,” Alice continues. “I just want you to know how much I love you all.”
Tears sneak down Zoe’s cheeks while Blake smiles through hers. I tip my head back and let the sweet, spicy liquid run down my throat, then come up sputtering and choking.
“What the heck was that?” I wheeze.
“That, my little virgin, is what I call a good time,” Zoe chirps back.
“K-Keep your voice down!” Like I need her to announce to the world that I’m a twenty-one year old social misfit.
“Oh, pooh. Nobody cares. Let’s dance!”
We make our way to the top floor where the EDM music pumps loudly. The dance floor is packed, bodies smashed up against each other. At the same time, the alcohol has begun working its magic, loosening me up from the inside out.
“Who is that?” I ask Blake.
“The DJ––Marc Schulz,” she informs me. “Calvin Harris is more my jam, but he’s pretty good.”
The crowd seems to think so. They go wild when he comes on. We start dancing and hours pass in minutes. Sweat-soaked, my hair sticks to my face and neck, my new slinky black shirt clings to my boobs, and my jeans feel shrink-wrapped.
And yet I don’t care.
I don’t care if I look chubby standing next to my hyper-gorgeous friends. I don’t care that I’m not the most graceful dancer on the floor. It feels so good to let go, to live in the moment with no other agenda other than to have fun, that I never want to stop.
Dallas was right––it does feel good to be bad. Well, at least my PG rated version of bad. I have no doubt his version is X rated, which naturally has me wondering what that X rated version looks like. Then I want to kick myself for even considering it.
Across the dance floor, I spot Reagan approaching, pushing his way between one sweat-slicked body after another. Walking up behind Alice, he wraps his arms around her waist, and she reaches back and rakes her fingers through his hair. The love is strong between these two. Unfortunately, as happy as I am for my friend, it also serves to remind me of what’s missing in my life.
“I’m taking the birthday girl home, ladies,” Reagan announces. Zoe eyeballs him with open disapproval but keeps her mouth shut for once. “Can you do me a favor and drive Dallas home?”
“He’s here!” flies out of me. The rogue outburst gets Blake and Zoe’s attention, both of whom stop dancing and frown.
Oops. “Did s-somebody s-say something? Hahaha.”
“Nice try,” Blake replies, snickering.
I haven’t seen him much since the funeral. The kiss was ill-advised at best and all the time we were spending together even worse. Feigning sickness, I haven’t even been to the shelter.