Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Okay, step one, don’t bring a wine bottle to a party like this, I thought, glancing around the house. It was as if the place had been transformed from a clean, modern mansion into a club, with glowing multicolored lights all over.
I stood awkwardly in the living room, by the fireplace. My brothers were going to get a kick out of this one when I told the story later. Apparently I’d been very wrong about the tone of this “get-together,” and I hadn’t felt so out of place at a party since the first time I’d been invited to one in high school.
“Dude! One of the camera guys is here,” some young guy said from behind me. As he walked over I realized that he was talking about me, and his bloodshot, very drunk eyes were looking down at the camera I had hanging on my shoulder.
I didn’t bother explaining that it was a vintage Nikon film camera, and that I certainly wasn’t part of the Life of Tomlin camera crew, because the guy who had been pointing at me was now tongue deep in another guy, hanging off of his shoulders.
“Come on!” he said. “Let’s get on TV.”
He smiled at me, and I realized the two of them were drunk enough that they wouldn’t remember any of this tomorrow.
“Okay, get on in here,” I said. I set down the unopened wine bottle and hoisted up my camera, acting the part.
“Hell, yeah, dude,” the guy with bloodshot eyes said, his lazy smile getting wider. He slurred a little as he spoke. “It’s so cool that you guys are here to capture the epic vibes of the party for Kace.”
“If I were at home, I’d just be watching History Channel reruns with a beer and an ice cream sandwich,” I said, holding up my camera and pointing it at them.
My comment seemed to amuse them. “Holy shit, that’s fucking hilarious,” the other guy said. “Hey. Make it a selfie and come do a triple kiss with us in the video.”
My heart skipped a beat. I sure as hell wasn’t ready to do whatever a “triple kiss” was, and I still didn’t have the heart to tell them that this old Nikon definitely couldn’t take videos. I held up the camera as if it was taking a selfie of us, and I leaned in toward them.
“Uh, no kiss from me, but you two feel free,” I said, and by the time I leaned back, I saw that they were deep in a make-out session again, and had basically forgotten I existed.
I gingerly dipped to pick up my wine bottle again, walking over to the other side of the fireplace, my head spinning.
I knew I had no place being here. But when Kace had texted me about the party, I hadn’t been able to stop turning it over in my mind. In fact, I’d been thinking about Kace since the morning I’d met him, and following that curiosity had led me here.
And now I was surrounded by people who were younger, hotter, and no doubt richer than me, no matter how sloppy drunk they were. It was fascinating to watch them and see that behind all of the cool Instagram posts was just this: a bunch of people all just holding their phones in their hands, even while they were at a party.
The ultra-modern fireplace crackled next to me, tucked into its marble column, and beyond that was a sleek bar with more young, hot people gathered all around it.
From floor to ceiling all in front of me were long glass windows that looked out onto the deck by the pool. Glowing blue light illuminated tons of people, dancing and laughing and drinking—and, judging by the seemingly endless makeout sessions and general lack of clothing, clearly a lot of people were here to hook up.
I was in my usual flannel and jeans, holding this ten-dollar bottle of wine I’d picked up at a CVS along the way.
The beginning of “Hooked on a Feeling” started playing on the sound system after a loud hip-hop song I didn’t know, and finally I had some lifeline to reality again.
Now this was a fucking good song.
Finally, I saw Kace. He was outside, jumping around, his sculpted arms lifted above his head.
A jolt of adrenaline hit my veins, flooding me with heat. It still felt exciting to see someone so famous, right there in person in front of me, but I’d also spent the last few days unable to stop myself from looking up every morsel of Kace Tomlin material on the entire internet.
It had started with his Instagram. I’d been lying around in bed at night, scrolling away on my phone watching countless videos of Kace. He was mostly shirtless, sometimes dancing or sometimes just showcasing random bits of his life. I’d also looked up all of his interviews on Youtube. There weren’t that many, but he always seemed to charm the interviewer so much that they all definitely wanted his ass by the end of each video.