Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Worse, in here, I can’t just mope around in a corner and imagine swimming home.
But maybe she’s right.
Maybe I need to stop worrying and relax a little.
“Okay, okay,” I tell her. There’s not much else to say to Kayla.
She’s got the rich girlboss vibe down pat with her big brown eyes and full lips and carefully accented face. Tomorrow, she’ll be back to impersonating another celebrity, and doing it so well everyone around her will pretend to be impressed.
“Stop being so awkward. You look gorgeous.” She runs a hand down my arm, laughing again. “Look at your dress. The red really suits you. I bet you never get to dress up like this much, huh?”
“I mean… you picked it out. And no, I don’t get out enough,” I say dryly.
“You’re welcome, Lemmy. Didn’t I tell you I’m a genius? Look at your butt.” To emphasize her point, she slaps my ass. “Babe, you’re going to pull tonight.”
Holy mother of cringe.
I wonder if the security guy in the corner carries so he can shoot me right now.
“Hang on, I don’t know about that. I don’t know if I want to mess around like—”
Too late.
Kayla squeals as the tall tequila shots land in front of us with the usual salt and lime.
I knock mine back, trying not to grimace as a fireball goes down my throat.
“Remember Christmas?” she asks, reminding me of the last time we hung out. Although that’s a pretty strong exaggeration for ‘existing at the same party.’
Just like now, Kayla was completely smashed.
I was barely any better, and at the end of the evening, we wound up sitting together and ranking the guys in the room while I tried not to barf. Until I joked too much and Kayla threw up her drinks all over my shoes while she was laughing.
“C’mon. What’s the score tonight? Just look at that stallion stable. Every dude here is hot and rich.” She glances at the bartender again, biting her bottom lip.
Sigh.
“The guy by the door, he’s pretty cute,” I say. “I give him a seven.”
“Security guy? Lemmy, he must be like forty. Do better.” Kayla doesn’t even spare him a glance. “What about him? Over there by the roulette table?”
She whistles obnoxiously.
The guy she nods at stands alone, this tall, dark silhouette who becomes the center of attention purely by existing.
Okay, yes.
He’s hot, in a forbidden kind of way—the kind of sexy you see in moody ads for expensive colognes and watches. Those ads are always photoshopped, I think.
Only, unless he’s a figment of my imagination, there are no edits happening here, not in the flesh. Just Hercules in a white button-down shirt, curled open a little at the neck, looking good enough to eat.
“Him? Jeez, Kay, he’s a solid twelve out of ten.”
She giggles and elbows me in the side. “You gotta go for it now. Don’t make me drag you over.”
My heart almost stops.
“Um, right. How many drinks have you had?” I ask her. “Remember that time in high school when you told me to ask the quarterback to prom?”
“And he made a huge-ass mistake by turning you down,” she says, waving a server down for another drink.
“He didn’t just ‘turn me down.’ He humiliated me in front of half our class. Then he asked you out for putting me up to such a dumb prank.”
“Yeah, well…” She looks me up and down, wrinkling her nose. “You’re prettier now, right? That dress, you’re rocking it tonight.”
I can’t tell if that’s an insult or a compliment.
You never can tell with Kayla.
Like any young Missouri woman from an affluent family, she’s skilled in the art of insulting you with a sunny smile on her face.
But this doesn’t sound like an insult.
“Thanks,” I mutter. “But I don’t think I’m enough for that guy.”
Smiling, she jabs her fingers in her ears. “Nope, not hearing it! Stop putting yourself down. You could get whoever you wanted if you just smiled more, Lemmy. And if you dressed aggressively, like now.”
“You dressed me,” I remind her.
“I know, but you have boobs. Use them.”
“My boobs are not aggressive,” I hiss.
Man, I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.
“Well, not if you aren’t using them right!” She pulls the front of my dress to show more cleavage. “There, look at that. One little adjustment and you’re on fire.”
She’s shifted the dress so low it’s a miracle my breasts are defying gravity. “Definitely more aggressive. Do I need to start howling?”
“Kayla, no!”
“And hey, even if you don’t get the guy in the corner, you can still do better than the old nerds who haven’t stopped eye-fucking us ever since we walked in.” She nods at a group of older men on the other side of the bar. “I don’t even know who they are—dudes my dad works with, I think. Daddy paid for casino night, so of course a few of his buds are here too.”