Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
“You can use those to kick Painter in the nuts if he says something stupid,” she said, smirking at me.
“But shouldn’t I be wearing something more . . . I don’t know. More. Heels or something?”
“Trust me, you don’t need the fuck-me pumps. You have fuck-me lips and a fantastic rack. Not only that, Painter”—she sneered as she said his name—“is an idiot, so I can almost guarantee he’ll need a nut punch and you don’t want to break a nail or something. Any shoe with a real heel would get stuck in the grass anyway, and flats are simply not an option. That leaves us with wedges or sandals, and those would totally ruin the feel of the outfit. This is what you need to wear.”
I studied my reflection again. It wasn’t me at all, but I had to admit, the clothes totally worked with my dark hair and smoky eyes. Half sexy skater girl, half . . . hell if I knew. Something not Melanie, something almost reckless.
“I guess so. It just feels weird.”
Jessica came to stand next to me, wrapping her arm around my shoulders.
“When you helped me write my first English lit paper, I listened to you,” she said, her voice serious. “I listened because you understand that stuff better than I do. It’s what you’re good at. Here’s the thing—I may have taken a temporary vow of celibacy, but I know guys and sex. This works on you. You’re gorgeous. I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”
I blinked rapidly, unexpectedly emotional. Then Jess leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “If you were a hooker, I’d pay full price for you, baby. And you know I don’t pay full price for anything.”
I pulled back and she burst out laughing.
“You’re crazy, you know that?”
“Yeah,” she replied. “I’m the crazy one, you’re the one who’s good at school and shit. So tonight we’ll switch it up. You go out and have fun—just stick close to London, okay? I’ll stay home and do my homework. That should fuck with all their heads.”
“Head fuckery is a noble goal,” Kit declared, stepping into the room to join us. “London’s gonna be here soon—she’s our ride. She’s doing a Costco run for more ice and chips—you can never have too much of those. Nice work on the outfit, Mel.”
“It was all Jessica.”
“Figures. Now let’s go. We’re out of sangria again and Em’s looking thirsty. God only knows what she’ll do once she realizes I drank it all while she was talking to lover boy on the phone. That bitch is violent when she’s sober. We need more to drink—safety first, you know?”
• • •
“This is Mel,” Kit announced proudly, pushing me toward a tall guy with dark hair pulled back in a man bun. (Those always confuse me—they really shouldn’t be sexy yet on some guys they just work.) He wore a denim Devil’s Jacks MC cut, and I would’ve been interested in studying the patches if he weren’t completely bare chested underneath it . . . and what a chest. Damn.
I know it’s shallow, but if you asked me to pick his face out of a police lineup I would’ve drawn a blank. Those pecs? I think they were burned on my soul.
“Mel’s connected to London, my dad’s old lady,” Kit continued. “She’s nice, so try not to break her.”
“Hey, Mel,” he said, his voice smooth with just a hint of humor. “I’m Taz. Over from Portland.”
“Taz is in the same chapter as Hunter, Em’s old man,” Kit informed me. “He’s a great guy, aren’t you, Taz?”
“Fuckin’ prince,” he agreed. “You want a drink, Mel?”
I nodded, mesmerized. Taz was very, very pretty. No, “pretty” was the wrong word. Hot. Yeah, that was better. Taz was hot—like, on the alphabet of hotness I’d give him an “H” for Hemsworth. I wanted to lick him, to see if he tasted as good as he smelled, although that may have been the sangria talking . . . His eyes were green and sparkling, his lips were quirked in this adorable half smile, and when he put his hand against the small of my back, guiding me gently toward the kegs, I nearly fainted.
Fuck Painter—he had his chance.
In all fairness, I’m not usually that shallow . . . but I’d been at the party for nearly two hours now, and while I’d seen Mr. Brooks in the distance, he hadn’t even bothered acknowledging me with a friendly wave, let alone talked to me. He’d glared for a minute, then stomped off toward Reese without a second look.
At least London had been happy to see me, although I could tell she was disappointed Jess wasn’t here. I knew she’d been banned from the Armory for a while last summer after she’d gotten herself in trouble at one of their parties. But she’d really pulled her shit together since then. Reese had even started inviting her to some of the club’s family events last winter.