Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
I giggle, leaning up and pouring more vodka and orange juice into my cup. “Because we can.”
“Oh, I see.” Carter grins. “My beer not good enough for you?”
I look at him, noticing where Bishop’s eyes are dark green and smoldering, Carter’s are bright and lively. Where Bishop’s bottom lip has a slight pout to it, Carter’s are average at best. Where Bishop’s skin is soft, tan, and glistens in the sun, Carter’s is pale white but has a slight blush to his cheeks that is—undoubtedly—adorable. Carter also has a single dip in his chin too that I also find adorable.
I look back into his eyes to find him looking at me with a smug grin. “Like what you see?”
I see Tatum whips her head toward us out the corner of my eye. I take a drink. “Meh.” I shrug. He elbows me playfully and we both laugh. I know Carter was with someone else last night, just like I was, but I don’t care. I don’t have any emotional attachments to Carter. I don’t hate him. I don’t anything him. He’s just pretty to look at sometimes.
“So.” Tatum rolls onto her stomach as I grab another cup and fill him up. “I heard you hooked up with Jenny Prescott last night?” She wiggles her eyebrows for added effect. “I heard she can do this little trick with her—”
“Stop,” Carter laughs, almost choking on his drink. “But yeah, she does a trick.”
“Oh, gross,” I mutter, looking to Tillie.
“Jealous?” Carter grins at me. Oh, dear.
“Definitely not.”
His smile falls slightly.
“I can back her answer, because she was with—”
I hit Tatum with my leg.
“Oh?” Carter quirks. “With who?”
“No one. With myself.” I smile at him.
“Oh, I see. No kiss and tell?”
I zip my lips and throw away the key. “Never.”
He leans back on his elbow, taking a sip of his drink. Bishop and I never had the conversation about how open we are about sleeping with other people, even though that’s not how I am at all. And even though I did make him say it just before sex, I don’t think that counts. Carter looks up at me. “Whoever it is, be careful, yeah?”
I look down at him, very aware of how close he is to me. I nod. “Of course.”
He smiles sadly then takes another drink, just as the tent entrance pulls over and in walks Bishop, Nate, and Hunter.
Bishop looks to Carter, his jaw slightly clenched, and suddenly, I feel guilty. Why the hell do I feel guilty? There were no promises made between us. But even so, I can say without a shadow of doubt that I don’t like being near any other guy but Bishop. Having Carter so close to me doesn’t feel right, but having Bishop sucking on my flesh does.
Bishop’s eyes narrow on me, taking in Carter and me. He instantly has the wrong idea. Surprise, surprise. Instead of throwing a hissy fit, though, Bishop takes a seat beside Tatum as she pours them all a drink.
“Party in our tent then?” She looks to Bishop, Nate, and Hunter. Bishop’s eyes haven’t moved from me, so I look to Tatum, handing her my cup. “Another?” She raises her eyebrows. “If I didn’t know better, Montgomery, I’d say you want to get wasted.”
I shrug. “Well, since I didn’t get to have any last night…” I look at Bishop with a fake smile. “Yes, I want more.”
Nate shuffles over to the other side of me, his arm wrapping around my waist. I close my eyes, calming my breathing. “Sis,” he whispers into my ear, his hair tickling my earlobe. “I’m sorry.”
I open my eyes and look at him wide-eyed. “For what?”
“Everything, but most importantly, what’s still to come.” His eyes search mine desperately. Every sharp angle of his jaw and his straight nose pisses me off.
“I’m sick of the riddles,” I whisper.
He grins and then leans into me, running his lips over my cheek. “I know.” Then he pulls me closer to him and noticeably away from Carter. I take my drink from Tatum, bringing it to my lips.
“Music!” Tillie says, looking between me and Nate uncomfortably. I look back at Bishop, who is leaning into Tatum, and she is looking at me in silent question.
Jesus. What sort of fucked up group are we?
I shake my head at Tillie, hoping she knows Nate and I are not like that. Tillie pulls out her sound dock and hits Play on Escape the Fate’s “One For The Money.” I smirk at her. I love her taste in music; it’s so different from Tatum and Nate’s hip-hop obsession. Not that I dislike hip-hop, I just have an eccentric taste in music and like to listen to different genres all at once, not the same over and over again.
Nate pulls out what looks like a brown cigarette, and then pulls out a Zippo, sparking it up. He takes a big toke and then passes it to me. I fight internally with myself before thinking, Fuck it, and taking the cigarette off him. The sweet, woodsy smell of marijuana smoke fills the tent and engulfs my senses.