Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
I don’t respond. I just set the phone face-down and stare at the slanted bands of sunlight on the wall. Oh god, what would Stella do if she knew I had video of me and her dad banging? If she watched his dick withdraw from my just-fucked pussy, slick with his sperm and my first blood? Oh god, she’d die.
Simone watches me. She doesn’t say anything, but her hand drifts to the sweater she packed earlier, fingers brushing the soft wool over and over, like she’s comforting herself.
I feel the warning settle inside me: a lodestone, a compass, a promise. I don’t know what I’ll do with it yet, but I know I’ll never forget it.
My hands go still in my lap. I close my eyes and let the silence hold me.
For now, it’s enough.
13
AM I JUST HIS LOCAL HOOK-UP?
Andie
The Juicery always smells incredibly fruity: a damp, syrupy undertone to every surface, even the air, as if every smoothie ever blended here still haunts the room. It’s late afternoon, slow enough that the blender only roars every couple of minutes, but loud enough that the four of us can talk without worrying about being overheard. Stringy pendant lights dangle at uneven heights above the round tables, and the sticky rings on the table reflect our faces in little warped ovals.
The usual: Stella, Mary Kate, Kayleigh, and me, slouched in the corner booth where the bench seat is permanently canted to one side, like the juice bar was built on a fault line. Our drinks sweat into puddles on napkins, and the only sign that finals are a week away is the open laptops blinking blue on the tables around us. Our table is all chaos: two tote bags, a lopsided paper tray of cold fries, a spiral notebook with “Endgame Bracket” scrawled on the cover, and the faint whiff of coconut-scented hand cream from one of the girls.
“So where are we with our fun little bet?” Stella asks with a wicked grin. “Kayleigh, you want to go first?”
Our pretty blonde friend rolls her eyes, but agrees. She’s got her elbows on the table and her fingers wound in the straw wrapper, twisting it into a cord tight enough to strangle a hamster. Her voice, when she finally speaks, is pitched low, like she’s about to let us in on a huge secret. “Okay, girls, here’s my update: my mom’s getting remarried next week, and my stepbrother is flying in from San Francisco. He’s only thirty-three, and he’s basically—” she glances at Stella for the proper word, “—a douche, but, like, a billionaire douche?”
Stella giggles, but it’s not mean, just an “I’ve seen this show” kind of sound.
Kayleigh leans in. “I think I can seduce him. Or at least, you know, give it a college try.”
She finishes winding the straw wrapper, then splits it in two with a single jerk of her pinkies. Her cheeks are red, and her eyes are wide. “I mean, he’s hot. Most tech bros are five foot three and pudgy, but not my stepbrother. Somehow, he was blessed in the looks department, and oh my god!” she says, fanning herself theatrically. “This guy has abs. The only question is if he has cock too,” she says with a naughty wink.
Mary Kate, who habitually does her eyeliner like she’s prepping for the Oscars, jumps in. “You know what’s so hot about that?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “If you seduce him, your mom’s wedding night will be totally overshadowed by your own sexual debut. You won’t remember a thing from the ceremony because let’s face it. Weddings can be boring.”
Kayleigh fake gasps and bats her eyes. “It’s not about the wedding, it’s about the man,” she says, but her smile is hungry. “Plus, let’s be honest, he has to be hung. A guy that hot can’t be not hung.”
Mary Kate giggles at the double negative. “Are you sure? You know that shoe size can be deceiving.” But then, she leans forward, arms folded, nails tap-tapping the table in a nervous Morse code. “Okay. I have a situation that’s technically in progress that might even top yours, girlfriend.” She says this so softly, all three of us lean in to catch the words.
“Last night,” Mary Kate continues, “my stepdad called, and we talked. Like, really talked. About college, and his job, and…” She breaks off, bites her lip, and glances at the window, as if checking for snipers.
I cut in. “Oh my god, you had phone sex with him?” I squeal.
Mary Kate rolls her eyes.
“Not exactly. Sort of. Okay, maybe a little.”
Stella gasps. “Is your mom still married to him?”
Mary Kate grins, a lopsided show of teeth, and flips her hair over one shoulder. “Not for long. They’re in the process of getting a divorce, and she’s already moving out, so it’s not like I’m breaking up a happy home. Technically, I’m just getting a head start.”