Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
“Move the story forward, Violet.”
“Right. Yeah. Anyway, I had to get all these people out of the house, which took freaking ages. Buck passed out in the bathroom for a while and then I finally got him into his bed, which was a feat because he’s huge and I’m me.” She points to herself.
We pull up to the drive thru and Violet orders half the menu. I pay for the obscene amount of food I’m sure she’ll never finish and then wait as the line of cars moves forward at what feels like a snail's pace.
“So I get him into bed and I make sure he’s lying on his side, because that’s what you’re supposed to do with intoxicated people.”
“How do you know that’s what you’re supposed to do?”
“I learned it in health class, maybe? Or when I took that Red Cross course? Anyway, drunk people aren’t supposed to sleep on their backs because they could asphyxiate on their own vomit. And while the whole party thing was horrible to come home to, I think a slightly trashed house is highly preferable to something like that happening. But Buck kept rolling over onto his back. So I kept having to roll him back onto his side. Which means I had to stay awake until, like, six in the morning, monitoring him and making sure he didn’t die. He owes me so big.” She crosses her arms and waits as we pull forward and the drive-thru kid passes over three enormous bags.
I pull over and park. “So, nothing happened between you and Miller?”
Violet wrinkles her nose. “You mean other than me cleaning up his vomit and making sure he made it through the night?” She opens the first bag and pulls out a breakfast tray of pancakes. “Man, I'm hungry.”
“He was naked.”
“Can we not keep bringing that up? Buck’s dangler is the last thing I want to think about when I’m about to eat a maple syrup dipped sausage.” She spears a sausage link with a fork.
“So all you did was make sure he was okay? That’s it?” I’m still gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles are white.
“That’s it?” Violet stops with the fork half an inch from her mouth. “I had to prod a hundred teenage hornballs out of the house and the yard, clean up the mess he made in the hallway, and stayed up until six in the morning to make sure he didn’t die. I feel like ‘that’s it’ is downplaying how kickass of a stepsister I’m gonna be.” She takes a hearty bite of sausage link while glaring at me.
“So nothing sexual happened?” I ask.
“What?” Violet flails and her sausage link goes flying, as do her pancakes. The syrup flips over and lands on her leg, then slides down her shin and hits the floor. A pancake lands on the dashboard and another lands on the center console. “Oh my God! Ew! No!” she gags dramatically. “Seriously, mom? Did you miss the part where he hurled all over the hallway? Or the part where I’m vying for top spot as stepsister of the fucking millennium? You’re dating his freaking dad, who might end up being my stepdad. There is a less than zero percent chance I would ever entertain that scenario. Also, he’s not even remotely my type. Nothing against hockey players, but they all seem to be relentless horndogs and my energy is currently funneled into getting into a great college, not fumbling my way through lackluster sexual experiences with dude-bros.” She looks down at her lap. “Jesus. Why am I covered in pancakes and syrup?”
“Oh, thank God.” I release the steering wheel and burst into tears.
“Mom? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
I try to reassure her, but it comes out as a relieved sob.
“Mom? Ma? Mummy?”
I hold up a hand and shake my head.
“Did you honestly believe something happened between me and Buck? I feel like I have to call him Buck instead of Miller until the end of time now. Wait. Is this because you’ve been reading those smutty stepbrother romance novels again in your book club?”
I get myself under control enough to say, “He was naked.”
“I was fully clothed. And his room smelled like vomit and dirty socks.”
“I panicked.”
“Clearly,” I say.
I hand Violet a napkin.
It sticks to her fingers, so she uses the bottom of her shirt instead.
“I need a shower, and your car needs to be detailed. I have no idea where that sausage went, either.”
“Why don’t we go home and get cleaned up?” I need half an hour to get over this before I call Sidney.
“That seems reasonable.”
I pull out of the spot while Violet cleans her hand with a wet wipe and then digs around in another bag, producing a container of french fries.
“I can’t believe you actually thought something happened with me and Buck,” she muses as she pops a fry into her mouth. “He’s got a lot of chest hair for a seventeen-year-old and, logically speaking, he’s only going to get fuzzier with time and hormones. Also, that he takes out his front teeth to entice random girls is a little weird.”