Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
“You understand we’re just trying to do what’s best for you, Cal,” Kathleen says. “And we’ve got a few girls we think would make great matches for you. Especially Jenni Hinderman. She’s so hot right now–”
“Get out,” I snap. Kathleen stops and looks at Josh. I turn to him and motion to the door. “Out. Now. I’ve had enough of this conversation.”
“Will you at least consider what she’s saying?” Josh asks.
“I’m the biggest rockstar on the planet, Josh,” I reply. “I’ll do whatever the hell I want.”
4
Reese
I remember the first date that Tucker took me on back in high school. It was a movie date.
My mom was going to drop me off, and I was so nervous that I could barely even do the clasp on my necklace. The date went terribly, and Tucker basically ignored me the entire time, but I still felt like I was going to throw up the whole time I was getting ready.
Today, just knowing I have a date with Cal Shelton tonight has me feeling…well, I’m not sure really how I’m feeling.
Part of that same don’t-give-a-fuck attitude is still running through me from yesterday, but after my confrontation with Sarah from last night, part of me kind of wants to, I dunno, prove myself to both of them.
I want to show Sarah that I can handle this man, and I also want to show Cal the same. This guy must have had millions of girls, and I’ve only had one jerk of a boyfriend. We’re not even on remotely equal footing.
I guess all I can say is I feel off balance.
I’ve been thumbing through my closet for almost an hour now, trying to figure out what I’m going to wear, and have come up with nothing. Then again, I don’t even know where we’re going.
“Shit,” I grumble as I trudge into the living room. I slump down on the couch, and it’s at that exact moment that there’s a knock on the door. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
Sarah’s still sleeping, as she works late nights at the club, so even if it is for her—which it most likely is—it’s going to be on me to answer.
“Coming!” I call out, lifting myself up off the couch and going to the door. But when I open it, what I find there is not at all what I expected.
Two men, both handsomely dressed, are standing in my hallway, each with wheeled clothing racks filled with clothing.
“Reese Wilson?” one of them asks, wiping sweat from his brow.
“Yes?”
“Delivery from Mr. Shelton.” Before I can react, they’re both pushing past me into the apartment with the two racks containing probably more clothes than I actually own right now.
“W-wait a second,” I stammer as they wheel them straight into the living room. “What is all this?”
“You’ll have to ask him, miss,” the second man asks, producing a tablet. “If you could just sign here, acknowledging that you received the delivery.”
I glance at the clothes and notice several designer labels. The rest I don’t recognize, but I can already tell that they’re expensive. Like crazy expensive.
“Miss? Could you sign, please?”
“I don’t owe you anything for this, right?” I ask. “Because I’m a waitress…”
“Mr. Shelton already paid for it, miss.” The man nods, holding the tablet closer to me. “We just need a signature.”
What the hell is going on?
I glance over at the racks again, and part of me gets all excited. Look at these clothes! There must be thousands of dollars’ worth of stuff there. But again, isn’t this just another example of Cal being a pompous prick? Assuming I don’t have anything to wear out tonight with him?
I mean, he’s right, but that’s not the point.
“Fine,” I reply, finally using my index finger to scribble something resembling a signature on the man’s tablet. This seems to satisfy him, and he and his partner both force smiles and vacate my apartment, tugging the door shut on their way out.
“What the hell’s going on?” Sarah grumbles, coming out of her room in a T-shirt and some underwear. “Who were those guys and—” She stops when she sees the racks of clothes in the middle of the room. “Whoa, what’s all this?”
“A gift from my date tonight,” I grumble.
Sarah’s eyes go wide, and she goes over to a pair of jeans on a hanger and examines the label. She gawks and looks at me. “Shit, dude, do you have any idea what these are?”
“No.” I shake my head.
“Or what they cost?”
“Nope.”
“Let’s just say, these jeans cost more than our monthly rent,” she laughs. “By a lot.”
I sigh. “Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me actually.”
“Dude, you’ve got yourself a sugar daddy!”
That does it. I immediately open my phone and text Cal.
You’re an asshole, you know that?”
I turn my back on the racks of designer clothes while Sarah continues to fish through them excitedly. Our living room has basically just turned into a small upscale boutique for the time being.