Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
“Good, right?” He nods, answering himself.
“If you say so,” I drawl, and a yawn escapes.
His gaze shoots up from his phone, where he was scrolling for another video to show me, and his nose scrunches.
“You don’t like it?”
“Like what, exactly?” I take another sip of my drink. This might be the fastest way to get me drunk on a date.
How the fuck did I get stuck on a date with a man who needs so much validation? Ivy fucking owes me for this.
I’m not your fucking therapist. If you have issues, hire someone, fuckface.
I smile at him.
He frowns back.
“You’re very peculiar,” he says, and I shrug in response. “That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Luckily for the both of us, I don’t need validation from strangers.”
And let’s be real because if someone really hurt my feelings, I’m sure once my family found out, they would be dead anyway.
“I could end your social life,” he threatens, clearly pissed that I didn’t buy into whatever it is he’s selling.
“I could end your life, so let’s not throw words out we don’t want to play with.” I lift my drink and salute him.
He’s gobsmacked, his jaw dropping open. Ivy stops at the end of our table then, her pink lipstick smeared and her date smoothing over his hair at the bar as he orders them another drink.
“How’s it going over here?” she asks.
“Ready to go?” I ask with a beaming smile.
Dickhead stands, his chair screeching, as he mumbles under his breath and stomps to the bar. A woman approaches him and asks for a photo. He turns back to me with a look that says see, people know me. But I just laugh. I can’t help it. How can I make this shit up?
His expression darkens, and then he looks away and fake smiles for the photo.
“Let me excuse myself,” Ivy says.
“I can walk myself home.” It’s only ten minutes away, at most.
“Hos before bros,” she singsongs as she saunters over to her date. I watch as she flirtatiously leans into him. He looks her up and down, basically devouring her with his gaze. I stare into my cocktail as I play with the glass, thinking about a certain man who looks at me far more violently than that.
I glance out the bay window of the restaurant, and my eyebrows dip. I’m certain that’s Ford’s car sitting at the curb. I leave the drink behind and head out of the restaurant with my bag. By the time I’m outside, the car is gone.
Maybe it was a similar car to Ford’s?
I go to check my messages to see if Ford’s replied, but that’s when Ivy comes bouncing over. “Oh, that was fun!” She stretches her arms, and we begin our walk to the apartment.
I side-eye her. “Was it? For whom? You set me up with someone who was a total waste of my time and potentially space in society.”
She laughs, then cringes as she sees my expression. “Yeah, sorry about that. I just wanted to fuck his friend, and you’ve used me as a decoy more than once in our friendship.” True. I’ve used her to distract my brother when I’m up to no good, so I can’t really be mad.
“How did you even find them?” I ask.
“A dating app. But he asked me to bring a friend for his friend. Guess he won’t ask that again.” She laughs.
“Yeah, probably not,” I agree. “Well, tell me how your date went.”
She begins to tell me snippets about him. Ivy doesn’t take men seriously, or maybe it’s that no one can hold her attention for longer than a few days. I imagine this guy will be spat out by the end of the week unless he actually knows how to please her.
A flush of heat rises up the back of my neck as memories of my night with Ford flood my mind. I wonder what Ivy would say if she knew.
When we return to the apartment, I see him. Or, more specifically, his car.
I bite my bottom lip. Having to sneak around means one becomes really good at car sex. And Ford and I are basically pros at this point. I tilt my phone away from Ivy as I text him.
Me: Is stalking on your resume now?
I shoot another glance in his direction. He looks down at his phone, and the screen lights up his gorgeous face.
Ford: If it was, I would tell you that your date is already dead. But lucky for you, I think he never wants to see you again.
I try not to laugh. I should be concerned that he knows how bad of a date it was, but a thrill jolts through me instead.
I clear my throat as Ivy and I reach the apartment complex entrance. “Hey, I’ll be up in a second. Mom’s trying to call me, and I just realized I need to grab some tampons from the corner store.”