Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 87856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Patrick tells me more, but I don't absorb it. I nod, I double-check my top (now in place), I follow him to the house.
It's a gorgeous place. Modern and huge (by Southern California standards) with a perfect mix of clean white and bold color. Red pillows, orange throws, canary yellow mugs.
We move through the empty, and impeccably clean, living room, to the bustling backyard.
That, too, is the perfect mix of modern and homey. Orange patio chairs, glass table, string lights and lanterns illuminating the space.
There are only a handful of people here and no one is visibly drunk.
It's not the night of debauchery I imagined. It's actually kinda… nice.
"Hey." Luna jumps to her feet when she sees us. "Thanks for delivering my new best friend, Tricky. And thanks for these, Imogen." She takes the bottle of tonic water, sets it on the patio table, and pulls me into a hug.
He nods hello. Excuses himself to the bathroom, to wash up, after getting me off.
Fuck, I'm hot. Even though it's a cool evening. Even though I'm in front of a teammate. Especially because I'm in front of a teammate.
I'm a filthy pervert.
Who knew?
"Won't your current best friend get jealous?" I release her and redirect my thoughts to less dirty places. Say, anywhere.
"She's not here." She motions to the quiet groups of people mingling. "No adorable blonde with a look that says 'it's time to leave and go read.'"
"My kind of girl," I say.
"You're going to make me jealous." She motions to the table inside. Then to the cooler by the row of succulents. "Do you want something to drink? We do have a bottle of wine open. And my mom has gin in the fridge. Or are you more of a vodka girl?"
"Gin."
"Me too." She smiles. "But you'll be the only one with a cocktail. Which I respect."
"Do college students ever drink cocktails?"
"Wine and coke, yeah."
A laugh spills from my lips. "Or Trader Joe's vodka and the cheapest jug of fruit punch available."
"I'm not sure which is grosser." She sticks her tongue out. "Sorry. I'm completely bourgeois. But at least I know it, right?"
"Are you kidding? I grew up in Newport Beach."
"Fancy schmancy. And you're slumming it with Tricky."
"Slumming it? Have you seen his place?"
"No, actually. He's never invited me to his new place." She moves to the cooler, grabs two cans—a diet soda and a La Croix—and offers them to me. "I don't mean like that. Gross. No offense. He's objectively handsome, but he's like a brother. And he's totally smitten with you, so even if I had ideas—"
Is he really?
—"I'm also tragically in love with my boyfriend. Tricky doesn't have parties. That's all I mean."
"Really? He seems like a party guy."
"He's social, yes. He attends. He drinks Bud Light."
"So I hear."
"But he's been less around for a while. Family stuff, I think," she says.
Right. He mentions his sisters a lot. But there's something off about it, something I can't quite explain.
"But then we're not here to talk Tricky. We're here to have fun. What do you drink?"
"The soda is fine." I take the diet.
"Or the wine, if you want," she says.
"This is good, but thanks. Sorry we're late. We, were uh…"
"I can imagine." She laughs. "Don't worry. I'm not judging." She motions to the couch where a tall man with dark hair is chatting with a slightly less tall guy with dark hair. "Have you met Oliver?"
The taller guy turns to me and nods a hey.
"Ollie! That is no way to greet a party guest!" Luna huffs.
He smiles.
"You did that on purpose?" she asks.
He shrugs maybe I did, maybe I didn't. "Oliver." He stands and offers a hand.
I shake. "Imogen."
"Patrick's new girl?" he asks.
Luna clears her throat.
Oliver just laughs. "She hates when I do that." He turns to me. "It's nice to meet you, Imogen."
"I am seeing Patrick."
"My condolences," he says.
"He's not so bad," I say.
Oliver makes that maybe motion.
"He's just grumpy because Patrick flirts with me," Luna says. "Or he did, a lot, before you two were serious."
"We're not really serious." I think.
"Using him for his body, huh?" Oliver asks.
"Basically," I say.
"Smart move." Oliver looks to Luna. "That's why she's here."
"No. It's really tragic, but I love the grumpy asshole," Luna says.
"Grumpy? Am I a Muppet?" He pulls her onto the couch, into his lap, in one swift moment.
"Mm-hmm." She wraps her arms around him. "Coffee monster."
"Pussy monster."
"Ollie!"
"You deny it?"
"Well…"
He presses his lips to hers. "I missed you."
"I missed you more," she says.
"Damn. They've been like this all night." The other guy shakes his head and stands. "Dare."
He looks familiar. About the same height and build. Dark features. Similar I'm ridiculous attitude.
"Darren," Oliver corrects. "He thinks he sounds tough going by Dare."
"Aren't you making out?" Darren, uh, Dare asks.
Oliver nods good point and does, in fact, return to making out.