Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Shouts and screaming suddenly pierce the trees beneath the music. We all turn to realize it’s the noise of people stripping down to run into the lake. I catch glimpses of bras and underwear. Boxers and tighty-whities. Some are going in naked, hands cupping their junk as they dash into the black water.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Oliver says, hopping to his feet. He pulls Mila up with him and affects a pretty decent British accent. “Fancy a swim, luv?”
“Why, yes, I do.” She’s already tugging her shirt over her head, leaving her in a lacy black bra. “You coming, Casey?”
“No,” I answer for Casey, my tone brooking no argument.
So of course, she gives me one.
Eyes gleaming, she gets up and starts undoing her jeans.
“No,” I repeat. Low and gravelly. “Zip up those jeans, Case.”
From his spot by the fire, Lawson laughs under his breath.
She ignores me, pushing the denim down her legs and kicking the jeans away. The sight of her bare legs summons a growl from the back of my throat. Okay, I’m pissed off. She’s doing this on purpose and I’m not having it.
I take a step toward her just as she flings her sweater in my face. I shove it aside in time to see Oliver hoisting Casey over one shoulder. There’s a blur of her white bra and panties before Oliver darts toward the sandy shore and carries a laughing, shrieking Casey into the water.
CHAPTER 31
CASEY
I’M DIZZY BUT LAUGHING WHEN I TUMBLE OFF OLIVER’S SHOULDERS. Water gets up my nose and I cough as my toes search for the soft, muddy bottom on the lake. For the first time all night, I experience a brief flicker of panic when the cold water surrounds me. But then I surface and hear the laughter and voices all around me, and I remember I’m safe.
Mila screams and splashes when Oliver lifts her over his head and throws her like a sack of potatoes into pure darkness. It briefly occurs to me I abandoned Jaz, but she looked quite cozy with Gray Robson before I sidestepped Fenn’s grasp and dove into Oliver’s arms.
Someone wades over with a bottle in hand, and the two dozen or so black silhouettes chest-high around me chant “Drink!” as some faceless person offers me a pour of tequila. I tilt my head back to accept. The sting is startling yet oddly refreshing. I’m not sure I taste it going down, but I feel it warm the pit of my stomach.
“Casey!”
My good mood fades at the sound of Fenn’s voice. I ignore him, swimming toward Mila, who greets me with an impressed smirk. “Ooh. Somebody’s in trouble.”
We both watch the shore, where Fenn removes his shoes and hoodie before trudging into the water in jeans and a thin tee. “Casey, damn it. Answer me.”
“She’s over here.” Mila rats me out and shoves me from behind.
I curse in protest when he reaches for me. “No. Go away, Fenn.”
“Can’t do that.” Without warning or permission, he finds my hand and drags me behind him back toward dry land. He stops only to snatch up his shoes and sweatshirt with his free hand.
“Hey, she doesn’t want to go with you.” A dripping wet Oliver appears and plants a hand to Fenn’s chest, blocking his path. But even I can tell Oliver’s a little too unsteady and lopsided on his feet to put up much of a protest.
“Yeah, okay. How ’bout I leave her here, then, and you can explain to Sloane and her dad why you’ve spent the night pumping a minor full of alcohol.”
Fenn pushes Oliver out of the way.
“Let go of me.” I try yanking my hand free, but his grip is secure. “You have no right to do this.”
“Maybe not. But you’ll thank me in the morning.”
Then he tosses me over his shoulder and my world is upside down and spinning sideways. That shot of tequila is less pleasant working its way back up my esophagus.
“Put me down, Fenn! I mean it.”
“I know you do.”
“Now! Put me down. Jazmine! Help!”
My friend comes barreling toward us, but rather than rescue me, I see a blur of black and hear a smacking noise as she slaps something in Fenn’s palm.
“Hey! Blond caveman! If you’re going to kidnap my friend, at least let her have her phone.”
“I’m not kidnapping her,” he mutters. “I’m taking her home.”
“Put me down,” I order again, batting one fist between his shoulder blades.
But he doesn’t comply until he’s marched us back to a shiny BMW parked along the dirt road.
He opens the passenger door and nods at me impatiently.
“I’m not getting in there.”
“Let’s go, Casey. You’ve had enough tonight.”
“Where did you come up with this idea that you’re allowed to show up out of nowhere and tell me what to do?”
“When every time you disappear, your sister calls to blame me for this bullshit.”