Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 112701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“Words, Rae.”
Rae.
The name is like ice water being poured over my head. Only one man has ever called me that, and he’s gone.
“What’s wrong? Why are you pulling away?” he asks.
These men are all the same. Wealthy. Insanely attractive. Arrogant.
Players.
I’m about to push him off me when the door flies open, and I fall backward. Two large arms catch me before I hit the ground.
“Whoa there, Raven. Nice to see you again.” Paxton grins down at me. “I must say, you’re a bit of a wrecking ball.”
“Paxton,” the man nearly growls. “Your timing is impeccable, like always.”
Paxton’s grin somehow widens at that as he lifts me to stand.
“Thank you,” I say, running my hands down my dress. “You came at the perfect time. I think I’ll add balloons to that fruit basket.”
“That so?” he asks, looking at his friend, smirking like a loon. “How about chocolate bars instead, Raven? Better for the environment and all that.”
I nod in response. “Obviously. Environment. Yeah. I’ll sneak in just one then. I’m sure my friends are looking for me,” I say, not meeting either man’s eyes. “I better go find them.”
“Raven.”
I don’t look at the stranger or Paxton as I turn my back and rush down the private hallway.
“Good night,” I call out, never turning back.
My name is called several times before I slip out from behind the wall into the chaos of Silver.
Am I a chickenshit for running?
Probably.
Was it for the best?
Absolutely.
6
Raven
Music blares through the speaker next to my bed, and I internally curse myself for setting an alarm on one of my last days off.
Not that I’m too upset. I still managed to sleep in. It’s eight, and my internal clock is typically set at six o’clock on the dot.
It’s been a nuisance on the weekend for years, but today, my body cooperated.
My pounding head brings awareness to why I was able to make it to eight. From the copious amounts of champagne and far too many shots consumed last night, I’m lucky I didn’t get sick. It’s been a very long time since I’ve had that much to drink.
After being locked in the closet and almost losing my mind by way of a kiss with a stranger, I found Asher and Lily, ordered two shots of shitty tequila, and chugged them both back, one after the other.
My friends looked at me like I’d sprouted a second head, but I didn’t utter a word of what occurred in that closet, and neither one of them asked me why I was guzzling tequila like it was water.
Thankfully for me, they were both three sheets to the wind themselves and oblivious to my shame. Not that I had any real reason to be ashamed. I hadn’t had sex with the guy. We simply kissed. It was mind-blowing and earth-shattering, but it ended right before everything got out of hand.
Saved by Paxton.
I should probably look the guy up and send him that fruit basket.
The phone on my nightstand begins to ring, and I don’t even need to look to know it’s my mother. The fact that she hasn’t heard from me already this morning likely has her in a panic.
She knew I was going out with Asher and Lily, and there’s no doubt she’s afraid I didn’t make it home last night. She’s a worrywart. Always has been, but even more so now that it’s just her and me.
“Hey, Mom,” I say, cringing a bit at the volume of my voice.
There’s a reason I typically don’t drink that much. The hangovers are not worth it.
“Hi, darling. I was starting to worry. You typically call me before seven.”
My mother is the master of managing to make me feel guilty without even trying. She’s a wonderful, loving mom, but knowing she’s alone, I have this self-imposed guilt every time I feel I’ve let her down.
Her worried tone causes the guilt to kick in.
“I’m sorry. I’m just waking up.” I rub at my temples, trying desperately to rid myself of the jackhammer taking up residence in my skull. “It was a long night. Didn’t get home until late.” I’ve reverted to talking in clipped phrases because my aching head can’t take full sentences right now.
“Hmm,” she drones. “I’m not surprised. You were out with Asher after all.”
“Mom,” I scold. “We’ve discussed this. He’s my best friend.”
It’s not that she doesn’t like Asher. She’s just always thought his motives for hanging around me weren’t in line with mine. He’s my best friend. The one I count on. The person I tell every secret to.
He’s never been quite like that with me in return.
He always holds a piece of himself back, and Mom believes it’s because his feelings go far beyond friendship, and he’s not being honest with me.
Yet another person in my life who’s hell-bent on ruining my relationship with Asher. Because him having feelings for me like that would ruin everything. They’d never be reciprocated. Ever.