Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” I said, leaving out “why?” I didn’t care why he asked.
Matt offered me an awkward smile, removing his hand from my goddamn body, resting his hands on his hips. “You know, I always thought you’d marry the LeBlanc girl. You guys just had this spark.”
I let out a chuckle. Not bitter, just amused. “Who? Millie?”
He shook his head, his expression collapsing into a frown. “The other one. The one who always came to watch us play with her friends and ogled you. She was a hottie. Didn’t put out, though. Then again, she did look like a mouthy bitch.”
Rosie.
Still a hottie.
Only hearing someone else say it inspired my inner jealous asshole, and I wanted to throw a punch in his face. Maybe it was because I still felt her mouth against my shoulder, her pussy pulsing with heat on my lips, and her moans gliding over my skin. Whatever it was, it made me back Matt to the wooden wall with my deadly expression and whisper, “Hey, Matt? Next time you talk about Rosie LeBlanc like that, make sure I’m not around. Because if I hear it, I’ll beat your ass and make sure you can’t see what she looks like these days. By the way, she’s still more beautiful than any woman who’d ever agree to touch you, and you were right, you genius motherfucker, she is going to be my wife one day. Goodbye.”
What makes you feel alive?
Regret. For regret reminds you that life has a weight. Sometimes it’s heavier. Sometimes it’s lighter.
DEAR SELECTIVE AMNESIA,
I need you in my life right now.
Yours,
Hopelessly idiotic girl
Sitting on the bed wearing my percussion vest and staring at the poster-covered wall, I dangled my feet in the air as I replayed every second of last night.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I was the idiot. Not Dean. Dean simply took what I foolishly offered him in my drunken haze. Jesus, he was the voice of reason (now here’s a sentence I never thought I would utter, even in my mind) who asked me repeatedly if I was too drunk. Dean, who was sweet enough to wrap me in blankets.
You know you’re in a bad place when Mr. Manwhore Galore is your knight in Brooks Brothers’s armor.
It was a moment of weakness, but it would never happen again. Tonight, I was going to be on my best behavior at the rehearsal dinner. Millie only had one bridesmaid—yours truly—and I wasn’t going to screw this up. Not after everything she’d done for me.
Besides, as far as I was concerned, Dean and I never had sex. And we certainly didn’t have the best sex I’d ever had—so filthy, and hot, it was on a whole different level than what I’d experienced before. Because if a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it still make a sound?
In other words, what Millie didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. I wasn’t going to say a word. Neither would Dean.
A knock on the door made me click the pause button on my replay of the scene where Dean pushed me onto his hot tongue and bit my clit. A scene that never happened, I reminded myself. I scooted up and smoothed my hair away from my face.
“It’s open.”
Millie came in with a tray full of goodies. Her smile was apologetic. Probably about last night. I smiled back, reaching for a drawer next to the bed and sliding it open.
“Got you breakfast,” she announced.
“Got you dessert,” I said. Being a music buff had its perks. Millie liked punk rock and alternative music, too, but unlike me, she was too busy to look for those small, up-and-coming indie bands that shouldered their way into the scene. Me, that was what I lived for. To seek them out and hunt them down. So I always made sure I had a stack of demos to give my sister every time I saw her.
Producing a USB the shape of Beetlejuice’s Ernie, I dangled it before her eyes.
“Wait till you hear Zack Wade’s voice.” I grinned. “He has a talent for playing the guitar and the strings of your hormones.”
She placed the tray with the pancakes, maple syrup, and freshly brewed coffee on my nightstand, muttering, “My hormones are playing just fine,” before biting down on her lip. Upon closer inspection, her eyes bloodshot and her purple hair a mess.
“Dude, are you okay?” I got up on my feet, bracing her into a hug but supporting her weight at the same time. The vest was still on me, and there was a giant tube between us, but we were so used to it, none of us paid any attention. Millie went completely limp in my arms. It had better not been Vicious causing trouble. Although, I had to give him one thing. Ever since they hooked up, he had been an exceptional man to Millie. Too bad he was a cunt to everyone else.