Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 98226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
One look at it and I knew Ivy and Celeste were not impressed.
“Okay, no. You can’t take all this,” Ivy said, gesturing to my face. “And pair it with that.”
“Not to worry,” Celeste added with a wave of her finger, and she was already dashing out the door. “I have a few extras!”
She was gone before I could protest, and then for the first time, I was alone with Ivy.
She smiled, shaking her head as she touched up something above my left eyebrow. “You’re stunning. Joel is going to lose his shit when he sees you.”
I flushed. “Thank you for doing this.”
“Of course. This is what girlfriends do. And we’re friends, right?”
She smiled, and I think I managed one in return, though something rolled in my stomach like the feeling you get before driving in a thunderstorm.
“So, do you love being on the boat with Joel?” she asked, casually walking into the bathroom to check her appearance. She primped and puckered while I took a seat on the edge of the bed.
“Yes, but I’ll admit, this isn’t really my scene.”
She arched a brow. “The long days of work?”
“More like the long nights of partying.”
“Ah,” she said, nodding like she understood. “Yeah, it definitely takes a certain kind of person to be a Yachty. You’ve got to be tough, resilient, hardworking. You know?” She shrugged, wiping at the corner of her mouth where some lipstick had smeared. “It’s not for the weak.”
Celeste bounded back in before I could reply that my preference to spend quality time with my boyfriend rather than party every night had nothing to do with me being weak, but we shared a look — one that I hoped told her I saw right through the passive-aggressive comment.
I couldn’t figure Ivy out. One minute I felt like we were friends, the next, I was sure she’d shove me overboard if she thought no one was looking.
“Okay, I have others, but I saw this one and just knew it was the perfect fit,” Celeste said, shoving something black and strappy into my hands. “Go put it on and then we should go. Everyone else is already up there partying, and as much as I love to be fashionably late, I don’t want to miss out on the free booze.” She lowered her voice as if anyone else was around. “I heard Theo is serving us tonight.”
My eyes widened when I held up the swimsuit she’d brought. “Um…”
“Just put it on,” she said, shoving me toward the bathroom. “Trust me.”
And for some ungodly reason, I did.
The party was in full swing when we ascended the staircase to the sun deck.
It was evening, the sky twirling with shades of orange and pink as the summer sun stretched its last rays over the water and the coast of Italy. It stole my breath when it all came into view at the top, and I paused, soaking it in, reveling in the moment that reminded me just how insane it was to be here.
When I stopped gawking at the sunset, I realized every single pair of eyes was on me.
It was like a DJ record scratch, the way the crew stopped mid-drink to look at where the three of us had just entered. I tried to convince myself it was Ivy and Celeste who had everyone staring, but one sweep of my gaze around the boat and there was no contesting it was me their focus was on.
Claude and Adeline were fussing over the appetizers on the bar, but they’d stopped, staring at me and muttering something to each other in French. The engineers were seated on the edge of the pool with Wayland, and I heard one of them whistle under their breath while Wayland gave me a knowing grin and shook his head in awe.
Joel was in the hot tub with a drink in his hand, and Ace hooted and hollered, clapping him on the shoulders with a goofy grin while he stared at me slack-jawed. Emma was already rushing over to me, her fingers touching my hair and the thin straps of the “swimsuit” that barely covered me. It was a triangle top with a half-circle bar of silver that sat in the center of my chest. The way it fit, it pulled what little cleavage I had front and center, up and tight. The bottoms looked like they were straight out of the 80s, high-waisted with the thighs cut out just as high, so that the fabric created a deep V from my hips down to my pelvis.
Thank God I shaved, I thought when I first put it on.
Emma was going on and on, but I couldn’t hear a word. Everything sounded fuzzy and distant, like Charlie Brown’s teacher, because all around the pool, people I barely knew were staring at parts of me I’d never shown in public before.