Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
“Wow.”
When that is the entirety of her reply, I inch back and stare at her like she’s a stranger. “Who are you, and what did you do with”—hiccup—“my best friend? You sound like Aleena when I reminded her that her wedding is only a few short weeks away.” With my tact tossed out the window along with my sobriety, I say, “She’s not giving off blushing virginal bride vibes tonight.”
Zoya tries to hide her smile before asking, “Where is she?”
“Um…” I scan the two dozen or so drunk women—and just as many sober hotel security personnel—scattered throughout the cabana. “There.” I cringe when I realize how glazed over her eyes are. “She’s pretty wasted.” An unexpected giggle rumbles up my chest. “We’re all pretty wasted.” As quickly as my giddiness comes, I’m hit with an equal amount of unease. “I don’t think the eggs in the brownies were fresh. I’ve been feeling a little off since I ate them.”
Zoya lifts my downcast head before peering into my eyes. “Are you high?”
“No. I don’t think.” My eyes bulge when my symptoms finally make sense. “Do I look high?”
“Yeah, you do.” Her lips tug at one side. “And you smell like a brewery.”
“That would be my fault.” I gleam excitedly when Riccardo, the bartender whose shift ended shortly after I was marched into Maksim’s pool cabana by his head of security, props his elbow on the cabana’s bar before he waves hello to Zoya.
“Zoya, this is Riccardo.” I drag Riccardo into the cabana like I wasn’t ordered to stay away from him by Maksim’s head security guy. He didn’t say the order came directly from Maksim, but he didn’t deny it, either. “Riccardo, this is my deliciously gorgeous friend Zoya.”
When I push them together, then stare at them with loved-up eyes, Zoya clicks on to my plan faster than Riccardo. “Oh… ah. I’m not looking for anything permanent right now.”
“Good, because from what I can tell, neither is Riccardo.” I apologize for the loudness of my voice before clamping my hand over my mouth and waiting for the fireworks to start.
Regretfully, every single one I thought I’d secretly planted turns out to be a dud.
Not a single spark fires between Zoya and Riccardo.
“I’m sorry for asking you to come back after your shift. I could have sworn you were her type.” When I attempt to add to my condolences with a hug, I trip over my feet and crash into Riccardo’s chest. His extremely developed chest. “Are you sure there’s nothing?” I ask Zoya. “Maybe you should feel his chest. It is all rigid and tanned, with only the slightest smattering of dark hairs.”
After snapping her eyes to Riccardo’s smooth and white chest, Zoya rockets them to my face. “I think it’s time to call it a night.”
“No. It’s still early. The sun hasn’t even gone to bed yet, so I don’t want to either.” I sound like a brat who hasn’t been drinking since midday.
“Kita—”
“Please, Z. I promise I’ll be good.”
She drinks in my puppy-dog eyes and drooped lip for a few seconds before asking, “How many bottles can you fit under your…” She tugs on the garment only a frumpy grandma would wear. “What even is this?”
“It is the ugly coverup Maksim told me I had to wear.” I flop onto a couch and cradle my blurry head in my hands. “He didn’t like that my ass was showing. Well, he didn’t actually say that. Aleena just thinks that is what he meant. He’s so confusing. I want to see you come. You won’t leave my fucking head.” My impersonation of Maksim’s accent is atrocious. “Then, the next minute, he pushes me away. I just wish he’d give me a straight answer like you did Riccardo. Not… fucking… interested.” My stomach rolls before I shoot my eyes up to Riccardo. “Sorry.”
“It’s all good.” His smile makes my dizziness worse. “I’d rather be honest than strung along.”
“That’s what he’s doing. He’s stringing me along like my feelings don’t matter.” With drunkenness comes honesty. “And I think I know why.” I lock my teary eyes with my best friend. “I think he’s suing the hospital for malpractice. In all honesty, they deserve it. Their plan to diagnose his mother’s condition was preposterous. They were stabbing at theories that made no sense for her symptoms, and when that didn’t work, they conjured up an even more absurd way to justify their stupidity. Her diagnosis was so simple a third-year resident worked it out in minutes, so how could seasoned doctors not do the same?”
My eyes snap to Aleena when she unexpectedly joins our conversation. “Because their brains are wrinkly lards of flabby skin between their legs.”
Zoya’s laugh pierces my ears before her voice soothes the sting. “You gave her the men are stupid because their brains are in their dicks speech, didn’t you?”