Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“Do you mean ass?” Nolan giggles against his hand.
“Nolan,” Ben warns.
The kid Ben was holding earlier stands in front of CJ and punches the air. “Ass! Ass! Ass!”
“Ashhh,” the little blonde girl slurs, keeping her concentration on the block tower she’s building.
Everyone looks over at Reed.
“Oh, come on. If anything, you should be blaming Nolan right now.”
“He heard it from you,” Mia says.
“I don’t think I said it that loud, though.”
“Loud enough.” Ben hits bottom on his juice box and crushes it in his hand.
Reed narrows his eyes. “Is that Super Fruit Punch? Did you get another one, Ben?”
“They’re really small.”
I chuckle when a discussion breaks out between Luke and Ben over their favorite flavors, both of them ignoring Reed who asks again for the adults in the house to leave the juice boxes for the kids and why can’t anyone just drink the ginger ale? It’s not just for stomach issues and the elderly. It’s even funnier when CJ returns to the living room with an arm full of juice boxes and hands them out to everyone but the kids.
“What is wrong with all of you?” Reed asks.
My pocket vibrates, and I blindly pull out my phone as CJ shares his views on Goodness Grapeness, the flavor he finishes in three seconds flat.
I glance at the screen, expecting to see a message from someone programmed into my phone, but the message is being sent from a number I don’t have listed in my contacts.
At least, not anymore.
I’m so sorry Jake. I heard what happened.
Are you okay?
I don’t recognize Katie’s number, because who knows anyone’s cell number by heart—that’s the entire point of contacts—but I know it’s her messaging me. And I want to call her up and scream at this bitch for everything she’s done.
Not just for the break-up out of nowhere, but her fucking my roommate at least once and my relapse and the dishonorable discharge that will follow me for the rest of my fucking life. I can very easily blame her for everything.
And I want to.
I’m angry and I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t feel like I belong with this group. I don’t have anything in common with any of them, except for CJ.
I’m surrounded by families who all have different priorities than me, and who are stuck fighting over juice boxes because they were probably told not to bring any alcohol, and I don’t have anyone to pair up with for games besides an eight-year-old boy who already knows who he’s going to marry, because I’m alone.
I want to get out of here.
I need to get out of here and fuck someone. If I don’t, I’m afraid of what I’ll do.
I pull CJ aside and tell him I’m not feeling this. That I like everyone okay, but these are his friends, not mine. That I don’t even have a fucking partner because everyone is coupled up.
It’s the only thing I can say, because if he knows about the text, he’ll figure me out, and there’s no way in hell he’ll let me leave here alone.
I ignore how pissed he is and the sad look on certain faces when it’s announced that I’m leaving, and step outside, shooting off my response to Katie as I walk to my car.
Lose my number cunt
MY LAST DAY ON EARTH
FELIX
“FOR THE SEVENTH time, you look fine.”
I scowl in the shop mirror at Dean and continue messing with my hair, which doesn’t look fine at all.
I love him but he’s such a liar.
What the hell are my curls even doing? I need my beanie. I can’t believe I actually left it at home on purpose. I had way too much confidence leaving the house this morning.
But that’s what happens when the hottest guy you’ve ever seen shoves his tongue down your throat and then tells you he wishes he could keep doing it.
I push my curls back and attempt to hold all my hair with one hand, assuming I’ll be able to find a rubber band around here somewhere, but the front section just flops onto my forehead again. It’s not long enough.
I’d cut it all off if someone didn’t find it cute.
The buzzing of the tattoo machine pauses again. “Felix.”
Our eyes lock in the mirror. “I need a hat or something. Do you have any hats here?”
“When have you ever seen me wear a hat?”
“You should keep some around just in case I need one.”
“Oh okay. I’ll do that.”
I slowly turn around and gape at him. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”
The sass. I didn’t think Dean had it in him.
Dean ignores me completely and continues working on the back piece for the guy who’s missed this entire conversation, thanks to the headphones he’s wearing. He’s the only customer left in the shop and the last one we’ll take tonight. We close up in thirty minutes.