Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
I tried my damndest to focus on her, but Jade’s moss-green eyes and perfect lips were still at the forefront of my mind, and I needed to get anything to do with her out of my head. College was about parties. Sex. Not feeling sorry for myself because the one girl I’d loved had taken a shit all over me.
I gave the blonde—who would be hot by anyone’s standards—a once over, but that shitty, weak-ass feeling in my chest was still there.
Jade’s figure was better.
Her face.
Her everything…
Jesus, a two-minute exchange with my ex and I’d practically become a sniveling, impotent jackass.
“Weren’t you about to show me the championship trophy in your room?” Blondie smiled, tracing her fingers over my stomach.
Yeah, a few minutes ago, I’d had every intention of taking her upstairs and using her to chase a much-needed release, but something about the way she slipped her fingers beneath the hem of my shirt—the same way Jade used to—caused a pit of disgust to take root in my gut. For the life of me, I couldn’t do it.
“Changed my mind,” I said, shouldering past her and into the crowded party.
God, was I annoyed with myself. I couldn’t enjoy the girls dancing on the table or an easy lay. I needed a damn beer.
I headed toward the front of the house, debating on doing a keg stand on the porch, but right before I reached the door, someone stopped me to offer congratulations for my play at Saturday’s game. Maybe it made me sound like a dick, but thanks to my blackened-by-Jade mood, I could hardly grunt an acknowledgement.
I was just about to excuse myself when the song blasting through the speakers abruptly cut off. A collective groan broke out before the eerie ch-ch-ch ah-ah-ah from the Friday the 13th movies echoed through the house.
“It’s Jason Voorhees!” A boom of laughter followed that comment, and my attention shot to the stairwell where a frazzled-looking Jade descended into the crowded living room, Cassie right behind her.
A random guy raised his hand, mimicking a stabbing motion as the girls headed for the exit. That video was going to haunt her—and me—for the rest of her life. I was absolutely doing a keg stand. A few more Jason Voorhees comments floated around the crowd as I shouldered my way onto the porch, telling myself I wasn’t scanning the dark yard in an attempt to find her. Like a homing beacon, I spotted her crossing the street beneath the glow of the streetlight.
I’d just stepped up to the keg when a guy beside me snorted into his cup. “Who knew Benchwarmer Brent could lay down dick good enough to make the hot, geeky chick crazy?”
That was the final piece of dry straw tossed onto the fire burning through me. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop the visual of Brent fucking Jade from playing through my head like some B-rated porno reel. My jaw tensed at the thought of his lips on hers, or her legs wrapped around him as he drove into her. A sick, green plume of jealousy rose in my chest.
A rap song—one I’d once fucked Jade to—exploded through the speakers, and now all I could see was her fucking Brent to that beat. God, I wanted to strangle the guy who’d just sent my already rattled nerves over the edge. I turned to him, and he glanced up, lowering his beer.
“Uh, h-hey, Wolf. Great game la—”
“Shut the fuck up,” I said, watching Jade slip behind the wheel of her Jeep parked down the road. I did not need this shit. I grabbed a Solo cup and the nozzle to the keg, waiting for her headlights to turn on. Her engine backfired over the music when she pulled off. I thought seeing her get the hell out of there would grant me some sense of peace. It fucking didn’t. Not even a sliver.
Bellamy shouldered between two guys waiting in line for a beer. “Guess Jade didn’t like the fact that you stole that piece of shit’s car?”
“Something like that.” Honestly, I couldn’t figure out why she’d shown up. She knew me better than anyone, which meant, she knew damn well that she, of all people, wouldn’t have been able to pry that money from my cold, dead fingers. In the same token, I knew her, which meant I’d been well aware she wouldn’t let me have it without some kind of repercussion. And maybe that was what I’d wanted when I decided to take that car. To get under her skin.
To prove to myself I’d had some kind of worth to her—good or bad. Because until that very moment, she’d acted like we’d never existed together. Fuck, I’d forgotten how much that had hurt, and I wanted to forget it all over again.