Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Just as I put the can to my lips, it’s snatched from my hand. My head whips around, and I find Milo standing there with a woman attached to his side.
“Give it back,” I demand, and he just looks at me. “Give it back, Milo.”
He turns to Mason. “Don’t give her another, do you understand?”
“Yes,” Mason replies without hesitation.
“I’m allowed to drink, you asshole.” I hop off the barstool and reach for it, trying to snatch it from his hand, but he holds it up in the air so I can’t reach it.
“Not here, you aren’t.”
I contemplate punching him, but I realize that wouldn’t be fair. After all, it’s not him I’m angry at.
“Drink.” Milo taps the bar, and Mason serves him while I watch him and smirk.
“Okay, how about a game? Every answer you get wrong, you drink. I’ll do the same,” I offer.
Milo side-eyes Mason as he mutters to me, “I’m not participating in getting you smashed.”
“You are. If I have to be here, you and me and…” I look over his shoulder to the woman, “… whoever that is, are going to drink while my husband does fuck knows what, with fuck knows who.”
“He left,” Milo informs me.
I freeze because, of course, he left. He is the worst husband ever. Most husbands would hate to leave their wife at a clubhouse with only men around them.
Mine, fucking leaves.
“Go away, Cassandra,” he says, and the woman seethes at him.
“That’s not nice,” I say to him.
“Neither is trying to watch you drown out your life with alcohol,” he replies.
I give him my best eye roll. “You’ve seen me drunk once. I bet I’m the best drunk you ever did see. Funny, I’m sure,” I remind him.
Mason chuckles. I beam at him, and he shakes his head, still laughing.
“Milo is a—” Mason starts.
“Shut it, Mason,” Milo growls, cutting Mason off. Mason holds up his hands and puts up a bottle of tequila.
“Let’s do a quiz,” I say, smiling. “I’ll go first. Every wrong answer is a shot.”
“Go ahead.” Milo waves his hand at me as Mason puts two shot glasses down. I smile, knowing I got him to play when he initially did not want to. He pours tequila into each and steps back.
“What’s the smallest state in the USA?” I ask.
He smirks and answers, “Rhode Island.”
I nod at his correct answer. We may not live there, but it’s a place I have always wanted to visit.
“What country is Samsung based in?” he asks.
“South Korea,” I reply with a grin. “What country’s national animal is the rooster?”
He sits back and stares at the shot glasses before he lifts his gaze back to me and says, “France.”
Mason whistles from behind the bar. I look at him, confused, then back at Milo.
“How many elements are there in the periodic table?” Milo questions.
“I’m changing the rules,” I cut in.
“Answer…”
“Every answer I get right, you do a shot,” I throw out.
“Answer…”
“One hundred and eighteen,” I say, then nod to the shot. He lifts it and drinks while Mason shakes his head, laughing.
“What is the rarest blood type in humans?” I ask.
“You couldn’t have gone with something more difficult?” He raises a brow, and his tongue darts out and licks his scar. He does that a lot. “Rhnull.”
I pick up the shot and drink it.
We do this until I’m on my fifth shot, and then he stops. A few people called his name during that time, but he ignored them throughout our game. It isn’t until he slides water in front of me that I give him an assessing look.
“You’re smart,” I say.
“You’re just working that out?” he asks with a raised brow. “And here I thought you were as well. Seems I was wrong.”
“He’s a bloody genius, is what he is,” Mason butts in, coming back with more alcohol in his hands. “But you, Lissie, are just as smart.”
I’m not. I ended up getting two wrong, while he never got any wrong.
“Why are you here?” I ask Milo.
Mason whistles as he walks off.
“What is that supposed to mean?” He leans in.
My vision is a little blurry as I nestle the beer in my hand. I picked up the fresh drink without him noticing. “Why aren’t you off with your women?”
“Like your husband is?” he grits through clenched teeth.
“Yes, like Cody.”
“Because not all of us get everything handed to us on a platter, pretty girl,” he says before standing and striding off.
I sit there and drink the rest of my beer, thinking about our exchange, and I stay there for a good hour before I decide to slip away to the car. I need to sleep, and walking home is not a smart idea.
Trying to get the keys from my pocket, I remember Cody drove. My phone slips from my pocket and falls to the floor in the process. Bending down, I reach for it and hear moaning sounds. Crawling forward on my hands and knees, I see two sets of feet on the other side of the car. Moving around to the front, I stay low and quiet until I reach the other side. When I get there, I see a woman on her knees in front of a man, her head bobbing up and down. Milo has a hand gripped in her hair while his other slides through his own hair as she sucks.