Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Ohhhh, any new boys on the radar for you?” she asks, leaning into me as if I’m harboring a great secret, and begins to scan the room. Jared doesn’t seem impressed but takes a seat beside me with a group of people I haven’t yet met.
“Ewww. We fuck men, Makayla,” I tell her with raised brows. “And, no, I’m not seeing anyone exclusively.”
One thing I’ve noticed about my college friends, especially my fellow party girls, is the moment they shack up with someone, they ask when everyone else will be in a relationship. And then it’s like they try to relive their glory days through me while pitying me at the same time. I really don’t give a shit about any of it, though. I’m grateful I don’t have to deal with that from Billie and Hope.
“But you want to be?” she asks. That’s when I notice her eyes are dilated. Okay, maybe she’s done more than just drink. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve tried party drugs before, but I’ve never been dependent on them to have fun. Makayla looks like she’s pumped full of them right now.
I go to tell her no, but then her hands are on my face again. “Oh my God! I have the perfect idea,” she squeals, and Jared rolls his eyes, obviously exhausted.
Makayla grabs my hand, then glances around the table, realizing it’s full of empty glasses. Then, she looks behind her at a table with a half-full wine glass on it.
“I just need to borrow this for a sec,” she says, swiping it from someone who looks at her confused but says nothing. It’s the usual reaction when Makayla is up to her antics.
She places it in front of me and then scoots Jared’s glass of whiskey closer.
“Now, you hold this, and you hold this,” she instructs. Jared is now holding the whiskey glass, and my fingers dance at the base of the wine glass. “We’re going to play a game. Jared, get closer to her.”
He shoots me a puzzled look but does as she says, and I wonder where she’s going with this. I’m all for games and pranks, but Makayla’s are sometimes… not fun.
“I played this game with Jared once,” she says proudly, and he rolls his eyes.
She reaches for my purse, and I pull it out of her grasp.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I need your phone. Trust me.” I don’t trust her, but I’m also curious. “Unlock it, please.”
Jared takes a sip of his drink and casually asks me, “How long are you in town for this time?”
“I live here now,” I tell him, and he pauses his glass at his lips. “I’m still traveling a lot, though.”
“She’s been complaining about you not coming out much lately,” he says as Makayla stands behind us and clears her throat.
“Cozy up and keep the hands close,” she directs as she takes a photo of only our drinks and hands, then posts it to my Instagram story, along with a tag of our location.
From an outsider looking at the photo, it appears like I’m on a date with a mystery man.
“Why did you do that?” I ask, and she bounces between us, shuffling to sit on Jared’s lap and then winding her arms around his neck. She’s chuffed with herself.
“Well, I like to call it dick roulette. The guys on your account who are obsessed with you will most likely arrive, and it’ll be entertainment for us. And, bonus, you’ll get laid. Win-win.” She claps her hands excitedly. I look to Jared, who shrugs and wraps an arm around Makayla’s waist. She reaches for another shot and sets it in front of me, and I decide to make more room for them by sitting on the other side of their friend, Lester.
“Glad I have company now,” he jokes. He’s attractive but not really someone I’d go out of my way to sleep with. Maybe after a few drinks, I might think differently.
“Better buckle up; it’s about to get fun,” I say as I cheer with the second shot. Jared is staring at us. He often does that—watches me when we’re all out together—and I’m certain he’s not a fan of me sleeping with any of his friends. If they’re single, they’re free game.
I start talking with Lester, and it quickly becomes apparent that he’s not my type. My ovaries shrivel by the second as he talks grotesquely about Instagram models who would be out of his league even if he theoretically met them. Snooze.
I slip away and start mingling with the other guests. I notice a girl vomiting in the corner, which isn’t surprising at these types of events. One of her friends is holding back her hair, and the poor waitress looks like she doesn’t know what to do. Someone else walks past with a bucket of bottled water. I swipe one, my stomach stirring at the thought of being in the same situation as that poor girl.